#wrought - Hello Poetry

when i am silent and say nothing it is because, there is nothing to be said or nothing of value worth saying, look into my eyes they say all i need to and how much need be said for things we both know or do you just want to hear them aloud so we can both revel in it relishing the sorrow we both wrought

0

Mar 11, 2021

Mar 11, 2021 at 2:16 PM UTC

manx-kronos-pragna

When I Am Silent

when i am silent and say nothing it is because, there is nothing to be said or nothing of value worth saying, look into my eyes they say all i need to and how much need be said for things we both know or do you just want to hear them aloud so we can both revel in it relishing the sorrow we both wrought

11

Panoply of mystical elements of holly day style breathe prez sense frostily exaled aired per millennia athwart (this terrestrial spaceship planet Earth) two plus seventeen carousel rides resonated veritable pantheon of pagan rituals and quirky superstitions lit (akin to a lit Christmass tree) starry eyed imagination as catalyst viz **** Sapiens furrowed stern brow of forehead aft stemmed whilst Santa oft puzzling (allocating suitable gifts) inducing him to tug thought generating beard pondering, whence agents provocateurs receive just desserts fueled hodge podge, mished mashed, helter skelter eclectic December twenty fifth encompassing tens of thousands previous generations bred despacito fixtures via paganism, Manicheaism, Jainism, et cetera ancient brutish credos, ethos, faiths brewed nebulous concoction within mindset of early mankind loose confection, confederation, conglomeration indiscriminately torquing, vetting, whetting disparate constituent beliefs contagion wrought spirit paradigm inculcating oral tradition Madonna and child occupying high chair whereat superstitions birthed patchwork comprising divergent ensemble heralding tender petsmart impact, where world wide web populated with sacrificial pacification sans deity via oblation, immolation, flagellation appeasing ********** borrow wing, vis a vis amalgamated viz Roman sol invictus wrought fiery brimstone tempting those who dared assert contrary fledgling jambalaya outlook provoking regally supreme sacerdotal wiseman punishing opposing incorporating novel modus operandi explaining sacrilegious worship such heretics pitched headlong into fiendish frothing furnace forcing obeisance toward primitive popular identified, honored, glorified father figure expressing devotion re: decking the halls of the moutain king, whence boughs of Juniper sprigs contriving wreaths sanctifying twisted brambles via springling angel dust (actually cremated remains of malefactors stripped of habiliments) during bleak winter unwittingly interweaving nascent (futuristic) formally codified bona fied religions unknowingly, tacitly, silently rendering quintessential premises obliging layperson to foreswear locally rooted secular treatises trounced, trumpeted unction voided wishy washy antithetical blind faith coalescing edicts over course of time became established Greco-Roman imposed group think disallowing cynics, diametrically emerging fanatics, skeptics who (if ***** did not recant recalcitrant reccommended recourse faced torture amidst throng of madding crowd as entertainment and forewarning gall asper those who held steadfast dissimilar views taught since birth, when citizenry reared as just a little drummer boy/ girl pipsqueak taught to stay the course (sans straight and true) bound without freedom to express contrary aspects of ways and whyfores, which controlled each green day and silent night, wherefore unimaginable ogres lined straying hip cats eventually ensnared within warpath, whence law of the land lend scimitar to smite any mortal man, woman or child with flaming torches licking the heretical body electric, while defiant individuals left to burn into decimated charcoal blackened, ashen corpse.

0

Nov 22, 2017

Nov 22, 2017 at 6:06 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Yule tide pageant merry go round

Panoply of mystical elements of holly day style breathe prez sense frostily exaled aired per millennia athwart (this terrestrial spaceship planet Earth) two plus seventeen carousel rides resonated veritable pantheon of pagan rituals and quirky superstitions lit (akin to a lit Christmass tree) starry eyed imagination as catalyst viz **** Sapiens furrowed stern brow of forehead aft stemmed whilst Santa oft puzzling (allocating suitable gifts) inducing him to tug thought generating beard pondering, whence agents provocateurs receive just desserts fueled hodge podge, mished mashed, helter skelter eclectic December twenty fifth encompassing tens of thousands previous generations bred despacito fixtures via paganism, Manicheaism, Jainism, et cetera ancient brutish credos, ethos, faiths brewed nebulous concoction within mindset of early mankind loose confection, confederation, conglomeration indiscriminately torquing, vetting, whetting disparate constituent beliefs contagion wrought spirit paradigm inculcating oral tradition Madonna and child occupying high chair whereat superstitions birthed patchwork comprising divergent ensemble heralding tender petsmart impact, where world wide web populated with sacrificial pacification sans deity via oblation, immolation, flagellation appeasing ********** borrow wing, vis a vis amalgamated viz Roman sol invictus wrought fiery brimstone tempting those who dared assert contrary fledgling jambalaya outlook provoking regally supreme sacerdotal wiseman punishing opposing incorporating novel modus operandi explaining sacrilegious worship such heretics pitched headlong into fiendish frothing furnace forcing obeisance toward primitive popular identified, honored, glorified father figure expressing devotion re: decking the halls of the moutain king, whence boughs of Juniper sprigs contriving wreaths sanctifying twisted brambles via springling angel dust (actually cremated remains of malefactors stripped of habiliments) during bleak winter unwittingly interweaving nascent (futuristic) formally codified bona fied religions unknowingly, tacitly, silently rendering quintessential premises obliging layperson to foreswear locally rooted secular treatises trounced, trumpeted unction voided wishy washy antithetical blind faith coalescing edicts over course of time became established Greco-Roman imposed group think disallowing cynics, diametrically emerging fanatics, skeptics who (if ***** did not recant recalcitrant reccommended recourse faced torture amidst throng of madding crowd as entertainment and forewarning gall asper those who held steadfast dissimilar views taught since birth, when citizenry reared as just a little drummer boy/ girl pipsqueak taught to stay the course (sans straight and true) bound without freedom to express contrary aspects of ways and whyfores, which controlled each green day and silent night, wherefore unimaginable ogres lined straying hip cats eventually ensnared within warpath, whence law of the land lend scimitar to smite any mortal man, woman or child with flaming torches licking the heretical body electric, while defiant individuals left to burn into decimated charcoal blackened, ashen corpse.

81

The whole world is wrong. Wrong - defined by not being right, defined by people who know themselves better than I. The whole world is at my fingertips. My fingertips - wrought in rust, wrought in hues of iron butterfly wings, wrought in the language of dead, forgotten things. The whole world is somewhere in the universe. Somewhere in the universe - lost in the void of space, lost in the void of time taken to meet ourselves, lost in the void of where lost things look real, lost in the void of what could have been and what could be. The whole world is wrong, wrong wrong. The whole world is wrong, And it is right, Wrong and right, full and empty, Timeless and running out of time. The whole world is gone. It was never meant for me.

0

Sep 20, 2017

Sep 20, 2017 at 6:10 PM UTC

fern16

The Whole World

The whole world is wrong. Wrong - defined by not being right, defined by people who know themselves better than I. The whole world is at my fingertips. My fingertips - wrought in rust, wrought in hues of iron butterfly wings, wrought in the language of dead, forgotten things. The whole world is somewhere in the universe. Somewhere in the universe - lost in the void of space, lost in the void of time taken to meet ourselves, lost in the void of where lost things look real, lost in the void of what could have been and what could be. The whole world is wrong, wrong wrong. The whole world is wrong, And it is right, Wrong and right, full and empty, Timeless and running out of time. The whole world is gone. It was never meant for me.

24