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#sights
A heart beats, Inside, a stone sinks, On the surface the hue of heat Rises and falls to the beat of your feet. The sight of you like a stick to a drum Jolts my spirits from toe to thumb As I run to the pen To exorcise the spell. Purposely, I break the tip And cast myself into your grip I'd curl to you like a stray Til every day My defenses melt away
0
2d ago
Jun 1, 2026 at 4:19 AM UTC
A Sight
Paris is so beautiful, that it’s emotional, like the red tile roofs of Rome, or the Kenroku-en gardens of Japan. It’s a relatively large world. Whenever you can fly over an ocean you feel limitless, and godly, like the world is there for you, on demand. Speaking of God-like views, I’m headed to Lisa’s (parents) Manhattan highrise again this year for Thanksgiving—six, very-long days from today—and I have to wait—but I can’t wait. I’m starting to stuff things into my bag, like a turkey. There are so many holiday things to do in Manhattan. Things that invariably whip you up for a sparkly Christmas. But these are only commercial attractions—planned distractions. One frosty November-break morning, two years ago, a tide of clouds had rolled in, like a trillion tons of cotton candy had been dumped on New York city, overnight, filling it up to the 42nd floor. It glistened there, below us, in the klieg-bright sun, like Tiffany diamonds on cotton. So, imagine that, then add a flock of geese, in military-like v-formation flying just at the crest of the glitter, like dolphins hopping in and out of the waves, as they passed above the insignificant works of man. It took my breath away. So, naturally I grabbed for my fancy phone with its super-duper, high-res camera. The snaps did the glorious scene poor justice— the majestic, wild geese came out as dots on glare. I’m watching things carefully this year, not just the multicolor, cachet, window displays on Fifth Avenue and the decorations at the Chelsea Market (where Oreos were invented). I’m going to capture this year —every intense, emotional second—with that most unreliable, 3D gadget of all—Memory. . . A song for this: Holiday Road by Lindsey Buckingham
0
Nov 15, 2024
Nov 15, 2024 at 11:45 AM UTC
almost here
Paris is so beautiful, that it’s emotional, like the red tile roofs of Rome, or the Kenroku-en gardens of Japan. It’s a relatively large world. Whenever you can fly over an ocean you feel limitless, and godly, like the world is there for you, on demand. Speaking of God-like views, I’m headed to Lisa’s (parents) Manhattan highrise again this year for Thanksgiving—six, very-long days from today—and I have to wait—but I can’t wait. I’m starting to stuff things into my bag, like a turkey. There are so many holiday things to do in Manhattan. Things that invariably whip you up for a sparkly Christmas. But these are only commercial attractions—planned distractions. One frosty November-break morning, two years ago, a tide of clouds had rolled in, like a trillion tons of cotton candy had been dumped on New York city, overnight, filling it up to the 42nd floor. It glistened there, below us, in the klieg-bright sun, like Tiffany diamonds on cotton. So, imagine that, then add a flock of geese, in military-like v-formation flying just at the crest of the glitter, like dolphins hopping in and out of the waves, as they passed above the insignificant works of man. It took my breath away. So, naturally I grabbed for my fancy phone with its super-duper, high-res camera. The snaps did the glorious scene poor justice— the majestic, wild geese came out as dots on glare. I’m watching things carefully this year, not just the multicolor, cachet, window displays on Fifth Avenue and the decorations at the Chelsea Market (where Oreos were invented). I’m going to capture this year —every intense, emotional second—with that most unreliable, 3D gadget of all—Memory. . . A song for this: Holiday Road by Lindsey Buckingham
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34
I stretch my eyes because i can't close my ears i stretch them so no tears fall out if i could close my ears like i could close my eyes i would do it any second because words and sounds hurt more then sights, you'll remember things you hear more then the things you see. I stretch my eyes hoping i stretch enough so i can get to my ears, I stretch and stretch until my eyes fall down.
0
Oct 23, 2024
Oct 23, 2024 at 10:23 PM UTC
Ears
snow is pretty. why? because it falls from the sky and pause when it lies on the ground i get drowned in the endless white where the light ceased to exist
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Aug 25, 2024
Aug 25, 2024 at 7:42 AM UTC
snow
The Eiffel Tower stabbed at a midnight as blue as an old Muddy Waters track. From a distance, its lace-iron skeleton looked like a slick and oily spider-web crowned with a glittering neon diamond. (My Grandmère's home is across the street from it). “Do you want to go climb it?” I’d asked Peter (my bf). “Naah,” he’d replied, “too crowded - what’s next?” We’ve been tourist-ing all of the big Paris sights. As we night cruised the Seine, the rivière looked dark and perilous - a phthalo-green snake slithering north westerly at six times the speed of the Nile. We took a guided tour of the Louvre - it’s a crowded fortress and you can’t see the Mona Lisa up close. We day-toured the palace at Versailles, with its ghosts of past grandeurs and revolutionary, royal beheadings. The Arc de Triomphe is just an unsafe round-about. As we Uber’d around it, I turned to Peter saying, “Joke time: What’s more dangerous: a shark or an American driver in a Paris traffic circle?”
0
Mar 12, 2024
Mar 12, 2024 at 12:03 PM UTC
Paris la nuit
* ~ *I am lost in the haze of memories of us as one My eyes gaze the horizon as the sky and sea kiss I haven't gotten how we smiled with the sun and cried with the rain How our secrets of the heart were held by dandelions and each seed took to the sky, so free. I have yet to truly resign myself to the thought of you being gone For every embrace was and still is sacred to me The sunset bathes in the sea, leaving orange ripples How I wish I could've used the light to banish your darkness To take the shade into a stone and skip it on the seas And we can embrace the songs of nature as we laugh and ride away, our turbulence forgotten I envision the facets of faces of people I knew and know Watching me as they bob on boats But the wind brushes away the mirage and I am before the horizon once more As I hope that wherever you are, That you see the same sun, same stars and skies that I do from this parapet* ~ *
0
Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 11:44 AM UTC
Parapet
Bird flies over hills Wait for me around my mind Grass grows without fear
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Jun 24, 2020
Jun 24, 2020 at 1:59 PM UTC
Hills
Blade of Heaven's rain Misfortune has left its mark Dew sings songs of grief
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Jun 17, 2020
Jun 17, 2020 at 12:34 PM UTC
Blade
Summer nature song Sweet chorus and cry from far Birds flies with freedom
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Jun 15, 2020
Jun 15, 2020 at 5:22 AM UTC
Day
Do not shun your aspirations Must have sights set high Hold a chance at succeeding Your unwavering dream can fly Wonder hard Ponder long Believe in imagination Is there limit to what you can achieve? Pursue your hearts creation
0
Apr 11, 2020
Apr 11, 2020 at 1:54 AM UTC
Sights Set High
(Dedicated to my Father, who was totally paralyzed for 7 years before he died.) I awake in the early morning darkness Frozen, motionless, immobilized. My eyes straining to see into the black void Looking for any sign of my keepers Listening for any kind of movement Phantom images dart around me slowly at first, Then multiple images spring from every direction My heart racing, my breathing rapid and shallow, Byproducts of fear and imagination Running amok in the dark My eyes focus on tiny lights incessantly blinking, Reassuring my heart as the phantoms vanish My ears register the intermittent beeps And steady, determined droning Of contraptions that populate my space, Their sole purpose to prevent the outcome I crave My nose catches whiffs of iodoform odor, Penetrating, pungent, overpowering my sense of smell. A cruel replacement for what once was A weekly parade of fragrant flowers That excited what few senses remain The brightly colored blossoms The sweet, fragrant smells The delightful sizes and shapes But the beautiful flowers have withered, As concern for my plight has waned I watch as the determined, dynamic sun Deliberately dilutes the darkness, Revealing the magical birth of a new day. Is that delightful birdsong I hear? The beeping and droning are maddening, But I know there’s birdsong outside my window I can’t wait until the moment arrives! As if on cue my keeper appears Busily going about her assigned tasks My eyes following her every move “And how are you doing today?” she asks, Staring at me as if I could answer. But I lie frozen, motionless, immobilized In my mind I replay my daily reply: "My existence is a never-ending cycle of Penetrating. . . pungent. . . whiffs Beep. . . blink. . . drone. . . beep Blink. . . drone. . . beep, . . . blink Drone. . . beep. . . blink. . . drone Penetrating. . . pungent. . . whiffs Dawn. . . daylight. . . twilight. . . night Daylight. . . twilight. . . night. . . dawn Twilight. . . night. . . dawn. . . daylight Night. . . dawn. . . daylight. . .twilight Penetrating. . . pungent. . . whiffs Each boring minute an hour. Each hateful hour a day. Each wretched day a year. Each torturous year a lifetime. Ad nauseum. . .ad infinitum. . .ad mortem?" Offering no response to my unspoken thoughts, My keeper dutifully takes my vital signs, Temperature, pulse, respiration, blood pressure, Records the results, then walks to the window My favorite time of day has arrived! “We must open the window to freshen up your room.” As the window opens my spirit soars, and my ears capture The lovely birdsong, as well as other living sounds, Along with a veritable potpourri of smells. I can only imagine what is happening outside, And I do imagine it as best I can I close my eyes and try to make out each note, Visualizing the source of each incredible sound, Be it bird, animal, human, or otherwise Who they are, what they look like, What they’re doing, what they’re thinking, The blinking, beeping, droning is finally drowned out! With every breath, I savor each smell And, with eyes closed, as I visualize What’s happening in my mind’s eye, A wonderful peace envelops me. . . comforts me But, alas, this day will be crueler than most Another keeper, a newer keeper, enters my room “Oh, she’s fallen asleep” he whispers, He closes the window, shuts the shades, Then quietly leaves, shutting the door I SCREAM A LOUD, LONG, PRIMAL SCREAM! ... in my mind As I lie frozen, motionless, immobilized—    Paralyzed
0
Oct 25, 2019
Oct 25, 2019 at 3:55 PM UTC
Paralyzed
(Dedicated to my Father, who was totally paralyzed for 7 years before he died.) I awake in the early morning darkness Frozen, motionless, immobilized. My eyes straining to see into the black void Looking for any sign of my keepers Listening for any kind of movement Phantom images dart around me slowly at first, Then multiple images spring from every direction My heart racing, my breathing rapid and shallow, Byproducts of fear and imagination Running amok in the dark My eyes focus on tiny lights incessantly blinking, Reassuring my heart as the phantoms vanish My ears register the intermittent beeps And steady, determined droning Of contraptions that populate my space, Their sole purpose to prevent the outcome I crave My nose catches whiffs of iodoform odor, Penetrating, pungent, overpowering my sense of smell. A cruel replacement for what once was A weekly parade of fragrant flowers That excited what few senses remain The brightly colored blossoms The sweet, fragrant smells The delightful sizes and shapes But the beautiful flowers have withered, As concern for my plight has waned I watch as the determined, dynamic sun Deliberately dilutes the darkness, Revealing the magical birth of a new day. Is that delightful birdsong I hear? The beeping and droning are maddening, But I know there’s birdsong outside my window I can’t wait until the moment arrives! As if on cue my keeper appears Busily going about her assigned tasks My eyes following her every move “And how are you doing today?” she asks, Staring at me as if I could answer. But I lie frozen, motionless, immobilized In my mind I replay my daily reply: "My existence is a never-ending cycle of Penetrating. . . pungent. . . whiffs Beep. . . blink. . . drone. . . beep Blink. . . drone. . . beep, . . . blink Drone. . . beep. . . blink. . . drone Penetrating. . . pungent. . . whiffs Dawn. . . daylight. . . twilight. . . night Daylight. . . twilight. . . night. . . dawn Twilight. . . night. . . dawn. . . daylight Night. . . dawn. . . daylight. . .twilight Penetrating. . . pungent. . . whiffs Each boring minute an hour. Each hateful hour a day. Each wretched day a year. Each torturous year a lifetime. Ad nauseum. . .ad infinitum. . .ad mortem?" Offering no response to my unspoken thoughts, My keeper dutifully takes my vital signs, Temperature, pulse, respiration, blood pressure, Records the results, then walks to the window My favorite time of day has arrived! “We must open the window to freshen up your room.” As the window opens my spirit soars, and my ears capture The lovely birdsong, as well as other living sounds, Along with a veritable potpourri of smells. I can only imagine what is happening outside, And I do imagine it as best I can I close my eyes and try to make out each note, Visualizing the source of each incredible sound, Be it bird, animal, human, or otherwise Who they are, what they look like, What they’re doing, what they’re thinking, The blinking, beeping, droning is finally drowned out! With every breath, I savor each smell And, with eyes closed, as I visualize What’s happening in my mind’s eye, A wonderful peace envelops me. . . comforts me But, alas, this day will be crueler than most Another keeper, a newer keeper, enters my room “Oh, she’s fallen asleep” he whispers, He closes the window, shuts the shades, Then quietly leaves, shutting the door I SCREAM A LOUD, LONG, PRIMAL SCREAM! ... in my mind As I lie frozen, motionless, immobilized—    Paralyzed
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88
drop of silver tumbling in the grass twirling threads and swallowed colors mixed results in these haunted lands a fierce light coming from beneath fumbling forth with feet aflame a shallow soul, scrambling, scattered desperation claims the best of them best not to mention the weak
0
Oct 23, 2019
Oct 23, 2019 at 12:32 PM UTC
one
there is so much I want to see wonders I've never glanced at art I've never seen skies I've never gazed at seas I've never looked at homes I've never peered at there is so much I want to see and yet I still haven't opened my eyes yet
0
Jun 5, 2019
Jun 5, 2019 at 5:22 PM UTC
to see or not to see
Time to leave Break the screens And find our true eyes To live the dream Leave the clean And head out for a ride The American dream we seek To go out for a week And look for some hell to rise Get drunk under the stars Stare at mars And smoke all the grass i can find For the American dream Is were the real people meet And talk about the times To do drugs with a couple of thugs And meet again up in the sky To discuss the cancer That grows in our homes And molds itself to the young That has done went And ruined their minds And destroyed them Of their good times For they will never understand That long travel across the land Looking for those great friends of mine.
0
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 11:16 AM UTC
The American Dream
memories full of wonder and light filled my mind and sense of sight those were the dreams in my imagination a whole new world in another dimension
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Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 7:08 AM UTC
whimsy
I'm glad I live in an average place So that I can keep my breath Who cares about the lack of sights If my lungs keep me from death And sure it's not quite pretty But there's certainly some charm To back up quiet living Without tracheal alarm
0
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 11:50 PM UTC
Breath-keeping
We eat in the restaurants Eat in the bars By the bistros Against the street or on the ground It does not matter where we are found As we eat like we are dancing With no one around Who could possibly be watching? Inside your own home A house of a lone star Impossibly pondering How the pauper used wood And turned it into cooking. Food can be shared for A life once cared for Kept to yourself Perhaps you beg not to share it An octagon plate and octagon jades Caramel vinegar rain Tossing and turning with lightning veins.
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Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 10:54 PM UTC
Food Courted
Electric sun twirls its lava skirt. Slammed woks. Peanuts, chilli, limes and oil Feeding him its lunch. Shelter to chilli cheeks and peppercorn faces. The air can't move its obese body to the rivers for a dip. Darkness is hard with sturdy edges. Curtains made of invisible beads and threads hang over the night in silence. They spill against the concrete under rough hooves and feet For the night falls like tight heavy lids. Dusk is a bruised tunnel of vision. Candlelit giants blinking rapidly. You don't speak For the night is never empty The silence never lonely Stampede of restlessness surrounding Grinning from squint to squint Raising embraces and chance encounters They scream loudly to frighten the dawn.
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May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 2:14 AM UTC
Roots
Once upon a time I climbed a tree, up here I was carefree. But as I reached the top, an invite of views now gifted upon me. Could I breath in these views of grandeur, as I leaned on a sore knee. I'll never give up majestic illustrations, this sight I gaze upon beyond expectations.
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Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 5:15 PM UTC
ClimbIng Trees As A Child
Her eyes were glued to a sky full of stars, But she was dreaming of something bigger than Mars Somehow the constellations would just realign, Opening up a portal to all space and time Distant galaxies sang, danced and laughed all night, Persuading her to stay and relax ‘til light The dawn would come much to her dismay, But then the sun rose, showing her a new way The light glistened with every step taken, And her whole being somehow felt more awaken Mountains climbed high and streams ran fast, Making her wish this moment would last Colors frolicked and pranced across the distant sky, Giving her beauty of which to testify But soon dusk would come, and she welcomed it grinning, For she knew these dazzling sights were just the beginning.
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Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 12:09 PM UTC
The Beginning
Silence falls truthful Trouble brews of love long lost Children laugh loudly Raining of lovers Love's embrace is free to go Markets spread lively Young women lament Nothing now collapsing slow Singers by the lake Hear beats among friends Riding over metal bridge Silence in my mind Fountains flows lively Nature's grasp in tranquil minds Flags drift over there
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Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 4:17 AM UTC
Journey #1
I. she scratches her back, marking territory on translucent skin they are of the same opacity - as if upon meeting they scanned each other’s bones to ensure strength one has a way of smiling where her lips pull against her gums and the other has the tendency to flip the pillow to the cold side before sleeping they are never not entwined they never had to get used to two sets of bras in the dryer, a hairbrush constantly covered with each other’s blonde hair, never using the condoms in their jewelry boxes it was easy is easy when one asked the other for a matching tattoo, she put her partner’s initials on the soles of her feet II. the birthday party was in full swing by mid-afternoon no one in the party had hair any lighter than charcoal and the birthday girl was four, wearing only one shoe all the women were clad in floral bikinis; the ripples of their stretched skin on full display in this circle, they honed their cultural energy with coconut water and bongo drums the guest of honour was passed out within an hour, but they had come all this way and wanted to make the most of it III. the night before she had found herself entwined with a bodybuilder ten years her senior she turned her hands over and over, checking for signs that she had changed but as the dog licked the inside of her legs she was at peace with the fact that she always belonged in a stranger’s bed he said she felt good and pressed welts passionately onto her *** he wanted to take her sailing on the lake the following day but she preferred to sit on a man-made sugared beach alone
0
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 7:15 PM UTC
sights on sugar beach
I. she scratches her back, marking territory on translucent skin they are of the same opacity - as if upon meeting they scanned each other’s bones to ensure strength one has a way of smiling where her lips pull against her gums and the other has the tendency to flip the pillow to the cold side before sleeping they are never not entwined they never had to get used to two sets of bras in the dryer, a hairbrush constantly covered with each other’s blonde hair, never using the condoms in their jewelry boxes it was easy is easy when one asked the other for a matching tattoo, she put her partner’s initials on the soles of her feet II. the birthday party was in full swing by mid-afternoon no one in the party had hair any lighter than charcoal and the birthday girl was four, wearing only one shoe all the women were clad in floral bikinis; the ripples of their stretched skin on full display in this circle, they honed their cultural energy with coconut water and bongo drums the guest of honour was passed out within an hour, but they had come all this way and wanted to make the most of it III. the night before she had found herself entwined with a bodybuilder ten years her senior she turned her hands over and over, checking for signs that she had changed but as the dog licked the inside of her legs she was at peace with the fact that she always belonged in a stranger’s bed he said she felt good and pressed welts passionately onto her *** he wanted to take her sailing on the lake the following day but she preferred to sit on a man-made sugared beach alone
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44
Stare out Into the skyline. Look at The wavering distance. Where the illusion of The sky on fire, Hinders the word From hearts of ire. Golden silver, Midnight blue. Let the storm, Bring morning dew. Crashing waves, Flickering lights. And off into the distance, You let out the sigh.
0
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 6:14 AM UTC
Distractions
The comments of the ocean Blend nicely with the brush Of tipper topper dinky dinghies That paddle all a hush Ships sailing on the summer current Keels are black and leery With barnacles and treasures trawled at sea They nose ahead worn and weary I sigh a little on the plinth of my palm Propped nicely 'gainst the ivory table And clink ****** cups, you know Those little things that make you remember Shame? Not me. When I watch the birds They hover without shame Boasting of the clouds they've visited And castles up high they are welcome to Take, take, take the spring breeze that simmers in I couldn't feel the grace of disgust I couldn't, I'm too happy With salt ground tea and seemly company.
0
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 4:58 AM UTC
Friendly Sights