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Nickols Oct 2012
My love is like a stone,
strong & sturdy,
and like the rock it is,
It will always find away to sink;
disappearing to bottom of the depths of the waters.

My heart is the water,
Free flowing & nurturing,
but love, (the stone)
strong & sturdy,
in its own way.
Will always
find away to descend--
The decent, into the abyssal.

The abyssal is my longing,
cold & wanting.
And this stone will always-
find away to the bottom of my cavern.

The cavern is where my stone is lodge.
Forever alone with the water washing the hurt away.
Down into the abyssal of longing.
Forever caught within the deepest of cavern.
Who would've know rocks can sink... >.< lol

© Victoria
ethyreal Feb 2014
There's a certain uncertainty
About the abyssal night;
Wrapped in sheets of cold sweat,
Head propped up by ghosts.

When the whites of your eyes set
Like a full moon in the ebon sky,
And streetlights take you by the hands
Rushing you through ****-stained alleys,
You won't remember a thing.
You won't remember a thing.

For what it is
The night strips you,
Public and unashamed.
Takes your inhibitions and
Puts them in a safe place.
"You won't be needing these tonight."

That's why I wait for the
Uncertainty of the abyssal night.
To get my kicks with no baggage
And no certain memory of what
I'd left behind.
Kingafroninjaa Sep 2012
In the darkest of the night is where you'll find her waiting for him.
The mere thought of his electrifying touch sends shivers down her spine.
Her flame of loneliness will drown in his sea of exotic eccentricity.
She craves for his presence so she can reach the peak of her insanity.
She gave her soul to earn the entrance into their heaven.
She poured herself into his empty shell of darkness so their broken minds can be reunited.
Her favorite addiction that she will never go to rehab for.
Her prized possession that she will never part with.
Her only obsession that fills up her time and space in this dismal dimension.
When the last light shine through, the darkness will be there to engulf her in his passion.
Connor Sep 2018
Parting the stones ceaselessly
barraged by waves – Abyssal fireplaces
line my recent dreamscape in overwhelming numbers
all hungry & purveying the dirt of my forthright grave – I've had many
desperate attempts to climb your Mountain Tower, a fortress encrusted with seashells
glowing gates, halls which betray the laws of physics and stir trespassers into madness

I'm in the center of indefinite reprieve – a dark and shackled
sweat-bath keeps me from ascending

The Farther, my initial cause – defeated &
hush ! Slick the oil from exhausted wings – fallen protector/sublimated spirit -
as the Dominion I'd once mastered has been overtaken, now tasked at massaging
the unwashed swollen limbs of Sisyphus as repentance for my own behavior – but I have a fantastic balcony to be – Sicily, Spring – a date to attend/a death to disarm & appropriately
chain until such occasion draws me back to her

I am dark
and therefore substantial ! Terrifying ideations have ****** from my vein/The Pilgrim's onerous migration has revealed as much – Dracula thirsts in multitudes

“Life is simply a process of death and
devourment -”

Our purification is only lent to the existence of corruption. Neither can exist so long as  consciousness – specifically Ego – hasn't yet activated itself in the mind. So long as we are aware, there will be conflict in need of resolution, darkness to be expelled by light. Both are intrinsic to the other. In such a way, all division or conflict could be viewed as positive potential yet to be realized. The dragon yet to be slain
―Go Forth
Flourish in The Light
Of The
Estival Sol,
Elysium of the Soul,
Once you have vanquished
The Stygian,
Your Soul
Awaits You―

~I bid you
Immortal Heartsease
Armistice of Ataraxia:
The Reverberation of our Souls
In the Key of Elysium~.

I. Archean Prelude

The echoes
of your
Memories of
The Light & Airwaves
Pine to
Bloom in Reminiscence
Over the
Days of Yore.

II. The Echoes of Existentiality

We are all atomic particles;
Molecular Particles,
Of an aromatic
Omnipresent Mist:
The Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love

―Echo forth comrades―

Into the Empyrean,
Etherealized Lightscape
Until the
Visage of Creation
Enskies us
To the exalted
El Dorado~

II. Tempus Fugit

The Promise
Of the
Is nigh:

The Yesteryears
Distant Ages,
Archean Aeons;

(Eventuality of Existence)

Our Bygone Days
Of Lovelit, Loveless Life,
Antiquate and
Our Soulwaves
The Spirit of
The Ancient of Days.

III. Nova Cosmogony

Betwixt the Realms
Of the
Beneficent Matriarch Mirror,
Terraqueous Gaia
Unfurls the Vista,
Your Fulgurant Dreamscape:

Only the Sapient of Sages
Doth denude:

The Incorporeal Incarnation
Virtue, it’s vesture,

The Decrepitude of Withering
Dovens the Divine
In the
Vestibule of Vanity,
Sanctimony & Superciliousness
Thence deliquesce;
Bearing womb of Light.

IV. Celestial Morphology

Unveiling the Substance
Of Space and Time;
Spirit and Soul;
Euphony, Harmony;
Atrophy, Intrepidity
All are Entity

Pristine yet vacuous,
Flourishing into
Mystical and shimmering
Nothingness, gropes
For Meta-Astral ―form;

Ventus Divinitas,
The Cosmogonist’s Agenda
Through the
Inchoative Universe.

V. The Temporal Hither:

Her Genesis
Vestal Vicissitudes:

She is
The Twilit Quiver
Uprising in
Darts of the Dawn,

Arrows of Antemeridian
Light Cascade
Our epidermis
With the incendiary
Sovereignty of Sol.

Chars the Canvas
Of Ethereal Skies,
Moonlit, Martyred Mind’s Sky;
The Eve’s Imperator
Inquisitive Spirit Eyes.

By Luminaries
We’re ensorcelled
Corpulent with thought.

~Wondering upon,
Vacuous a fathomed
Cosmogenesis. ~

VI. Tempus et Spatium:

~There are
Edicts unseen
The Esoteric of the Macrocosm

Only the
Transcendent of Tellurians
May tell of
The Life-Rending,
Sunder forth:

Semantics in Constellations;
Gaian Whispers of Sylvan Tale
The Arboreal Wisdom,
Musicality in Zephyrs ruffling Trees of Vale
Hearken unto further
The Winged-Symphonic Bees
(The Bombinating Orchestra)
Soul Untethered = [ Meta-Consciousness ^ Spiritus de Liberty]

Einstein’s General Relativity= [Spatium ^ Matter ↔ Energy ^ Motion]


(Time & Space
The height,
The width,
The depth,
The breadth)
The Empyrean One
Enshrined in Pantheon
Our Virginal, Vestal Souls
Efflorescent Eternity
In our hearts?
(Ecclesiastes 3:11)

Time is fickle
Hydrean Leviathan:

Whilst ye
Voyage her
Seven Seas,
Moor naught
In her
Elapsed chronology;
Her caprice
And ire
Shalt not
Be quelled.

Be roused
Unto her
Perpetuity of
Aqueous Abyssal, Dream Deep Sea;

∞ Her Moments ∞
∞ Extinguished ∞
∞ At Birth. ∞

∞ Eternally, ∞
∞ Reincarnated; ∞

∞The Cosmic Spectrum∞
∞Is Infinite∞

∞Excelsior, Godspeed∞

∞ Elo’him ∞

VII. Ultima Thule:

Empyrean souls,
Doth abide
Pearlescent raiment.

The Cosmogenesis is our Dreamscape:
We are all a cosmos,
Expanding, contracting;
Ebbing, flowing;
Hitherto and thitherto;
Red-Shift and Blue-Shift.

Until the Mellifluous Morn,
Whence the
Zephyr of Life
Reverberates the Musicality
Of The
Arboreal Sages.

Terraqueous Gaia
The Hope of the Ages.
Spirits betwixt
Greater Eden and She’ol.

Count the stars,
Enumerate every
Constellation in The Cosmos
Of your Soulscape scintillating
Upon thine Mind’s Sky.

Whence Luna and Sol
By the Wisdom
Of your starlight.
Are benighted, beseech
The Ancient of Days

For within The Supernal Wavelength
Of the Hallowed Dove.
We glean refuge
Our Aegis,

Awaiting the
Golden, incendiary pinions
Of the
Revenant Phoenix to resurrect us.
Allow the Holy Spirit
to be your Polaris,
― to Elysium.

~By Agape’s Armistice:
The Peaks of Heartsease.
Commune with the Cosmos,
Salvera y Jiustizia
I plead.~”

~This Sacred Lotus seed
Was sown
Into the
Into the Soil of your Souls
, ―By the Astral.

You are a melody,
Sung by
A coloratura,
Burst into a
Tapestry of Fioritura:

Of Hope,

(May you
The Virtues of the Lord)


(The [Your] Living Soul)


(The World)

The Apotheosis of the Astral Flame
Celestial Morphology © is the multi-epistled poem which I sired during the Estival vicissitude. Twas an ineffable cadenza that exhales of the incorporeal essence of mine entity. I had been toiling in sweat, blood, and tears over a written project at the time; consequently, this is the thematic poem begotten.
     It transmutes the zeitgeist of my summer into the Golden Raiment of Polymathy. The oppressed coals of my woe erupted from the igneous core of my heart as these adamantine words. This starry soundscape is the astral crux of my work during 2018.
      I think that there was a vast expanse of my understanding of the world that had been repressed. It had almost been veiled from the heightened sight of my Over-Soul. This was in my sheltered, infantile longing to elude heartache. To keep the flesh- sundering maladies of the world outside my apartment walls: love, passion, iniquity, penitence, forgiveness, piety, cultural fission, intolerance, injustice, indignation, divinity, melody, mysticism, schism, mania, trepidation, faith, wisdom, darkness, and temporally transcendent pain.
          This was my transcribed anarchy against a Fascist Regime. A country exalting body that calls its denizens creationists whilst they slaughter every creation under the sun. The sociological edicts that dictate how art should be produced, the pace, that tell us not to speak of discrimination and mold us to turn a blind eye to the harsh realities of 21st-century postmodern society heavied the air. I just needed to vent and let every bit of internalized asperity or self-directed hatred out in a beautifying paradigm.
      I'm realizing more and more that life is tough and quite frankly, short. I'd rather write for an infinitude on one poem, for the sake of saving myself, rather than compromising my own integrity (and creative latitude). The writing was becoming a drag: less about quality, and more about quantity. Thus, after months of phantasmagorical drought, I bestow a glistening glade of sterling words.
I hope this poem reverberates upon thine soul waves. Please comment as I am open to any feedback; moreover, I beseech it of thee. My deepest gratitude comrades.

Excelsior Forevermore,

Sanders Maurice Foulke III
Are euphony
Of thought,
Of heart,
Of body,
Of the splendid,
Of the soul,

(Unbinding our once
Spectral Fates
          That spiraled down
The Keys of Life
Tainted by
The Greatest of Dissonance)

My Redolent Reverie,
Sweetened by
Mellifluous Nectar Tides
Of cherished moments
Steeped for eons
In our
Carnal yearnings
Are made anew
By the Cosmogonist’s Hands
Of Eternity

(O, for I
Doth doven the skies,
That the Incendiary Wings
Of the Auburn Pheonix
Imbue me
With the Souls Acquisition
Of Golden Pinions
                      Of the Thew of Vitality).

Captive visions,
Slumber in
My Azure Dreamer’s Chest
Engraved with
The Insignia of Archaic Fates
Upon it’s
Starry Epidermis
Till skies fall
To the Terrene
The Luminaries
Shall rest
The palms of my hands

(O, for then
This Juggernaut of a Man
That I am
Shall Effloresce
Ceasing to be
     That Loveless Sentinel,
The Guardian over
The Bastion Heart
He fathoms

.Ensorcelled Butterflies
Lovelit Lavender Light
Upon that
Astral Parcel,
Lulling my weary eyes
By the
Sovereignty of Monarchial Wings
Vanquishing the doubts
Once blurring
My Kaleidoscopic Dreams
(Life’s Iridescent Seal
Branded upon
My forehead
And etherealizing
My exhalations
                    Till crystalline)

My sullied heart
Pulses shadowed winds
(The Sweeping Gales of Solemnity)
Without the
Blissful Kiss of Cadence
Resonating an
Ebony surge
Than first octave tonality
Of abyssal timbre.

I beseech you,
Unfurl those forested eyes
My Desiderata Materialista,
That I may
Drinketh of your
Emerald Streams,
Ineffably Pristine.

(For then
I shall be
Spirited away
      To Eden,
My existence
     Shall become
Nirvanic Transcendence)

To pine is a pang,
To envisage
Is to breath.

Perhaps that
Is the only solace
My feeble soul
Can bear,
Without you.

By your alabaster skin
Vein my eyes
With luminescence.

With your tender caress
Saunter my
Voracious skin.

Weave my Chrysalis,
By your
Susurrant voice.

Cocoon me
In your
Flawless serenade,
That I metamorphose
Bearing the
Sacrosanct Wings of Phantasmagoria
The Melisma of Your Piety.

Pearlescent blood
Floweth within me,
Like baptismal rain,
As I muse
When you alight
Once more
In my Cosmos.

I am yours,
Floral Fallal.

~Our fears are the burdens
    Of the Vestige of the Past,
      A hollow cry
       That fights to exist
         In a zeitgeist
           That flowers
              Quicker than
                Our hearts know how to beat.
                     Unfurl your Gates
                           To the Arbiter of Fates,
                              Unearth the Hallowed Crystals
                                 Of your Garnetiferous Passion
                                    That takes shape
                                        Because you…

                               O, Stalwart Knight,
                                    You were cosmic
                                         Like myriad raindrops,
                                           Mystic echoes
                                              Emancipating­ your spirit
                                                 From the trepidation
                                                     ­    Of the mortal kind.

                                Evanesce,                       ­   
                                                  For to be Ephemeral                      
                                 ­                Means to conquer                                  
That Magisterial Oblivion.
                                                       ­     Se’lah.~
Hey guys! I've been doing a great deal of experimenting with my writing as of late. This piece is an embodiment of all the introspection, musings, tribulations, and heartbreaks I have experienced as of late. I hope you all can appreciate this piece despite the quasi-obscurant references that I present bereft of explicit detail.

The core of this piece lies in the fundamental nature of our dreams, yearnings, and aspirations (as well as the shadows born of the loveless blight). It effloresced it something much greater as I continued to refine it. Hope you guys like! God bless!
Janette Aug 2012
Born to the night in the cry of wolves,
We are….inked lovers spilling secrets, under velvet skies,
Shrouding the night in silver spools;
The season of silver silence, hangs upon shades of silken soul,
This midnight offering, a white entice;
My hair shimmers brightly, a wet fleece of gold, of shadow and starlight,
And shimmering hues, emerald and sapphire breathe kindred embers into the bellows of passion;
Challenging the flame that burns; entwined....

Whispered intrigue lays in the crescent of moon,
In an eminent blaze of sweetest surrender
Unborn whispers lie entwined with heated petals, silken;
We shiver....I shiver,
I am warm arms embraced;
Your lips hard yet soft against my side,
The feel of flesh warmed to a rising flame...

The long moon steps into midnight;
My *******, full of your hands as candles, pour hard against the ebon fall,

Luscious to the hush of soft smiles
Steeled eloquence flows in ribbon ripples;
Winter sown, blood quilled, in midnights cast;
Cloaked in beautiful, shadow's bed a bouquet of lacy foxglove...

Eyes closed and deep of breath,
Moistness seeps the sugared flower,  and longing surges deep;
Shudder me wicked, drench me quick;
The wildness swirls inside as he moves like a shadow over my heart
His tongue eager to swim the gushing urge;
Touching, slick-slide, the soothe of smooth fingers slip past softness;
Lips cross, moist to moan me quick, sliding to quivers.
Thigh's whispering and heart pounding ,
Soft, the wind blows, tapping walls, fingers dancing
And shadow sways to moonlight...

Velvet-soft, the  sweet of tongue's mesh,
Fire burning,
The tips of breast's aroused by the touch of a slow hand lover;
Your tongue gently rolls, wet and burning hot,
Hungrily, it feeds diving deep, and sandalwood spires upon the malachite air,
And burning murmurs the silent song, pleasures
Your flame to touch me hot, softly hard,
Against the darting quivering rose, stokes sweet, the flame of conjure....

I weep as you strain to slay this huntress of indolent submission;
Descending into darkness, I squirm upon your touch, lifting my altar upon your hunger,
Eyes lost to ecstasy, the flow quickens from abyssal moans;
Overflowing with need, release bound by gold shattered stars
Suckling whispered thoughts;
With us, for us, in us, in dreams, in thoughts, in love
....And in....time my love..................
His rain, has become my decadent addiction.........where my thoughts manifest into tangible words, written slowly over his flesh........laced with twilights absolute surrender drowning, in the renewal of his liquid seduction....grasping, frantic starless wishes in hand....chasing shadows...I curl to myself, longing for your darkness...falling into a cradle of need finding myself ...rocked alone..... J
anmey Aug 2014
you sit here weaving words into stories like the sea;
while i fumble with alphabet soup in the corner.
Andrew Rueter Aug 2017
We think in money patterns
No peace from here to Saturn
When we live in money caverns
Tranquility lies in the clatter
Of echoes bouncing off walls
Traveling down darkened halls
Yet to be seriously explored
Where knowledge is stored
But the paths are abyssal
Leading to our dismissal
We cower next to the fire
It once provided light and warmth
Now we're just fascinated by it's chaos

I know I'm right
Eventually humanity will evolve
And if humanity doesn't reach that point
I'd be more correct than I'd like to have been

We need to withdraw from this system
And buy stock in each other
Whether you're Muslim or Christian
We should still be brothers
For we pursue freedom
As they purchase kingdoms
We wither in the waters of their wealth
We can see this isn't good for our health
When our species' main asset is empathy
And understanding
Now reaches no longer than the interest fee
And we're damning
Ourselves to a life in the furnace
With no humanity to be purchased
Dan Schell Oct 2011
Deep in the bottle,
where even the strongest minds fizzle,
perspective sways softly
and judgment is cutting
deep into submission
of stupor and stumble,
a profound lack of commitment
nodded off in the chair.

Wishing away
today and tomorrow,
but shadows can be patient
and wait for the dark.
The lump on the couch,
he bristles with anger,
fed whiskey and Winston’s
to dull those sharp cravings
for death ever-lasting,
for abyssal release.

You left the lump breathing,
withdrew your attention
to his core care and feeding;
you’ve taken to singing
serenades to the sleeping,
but memories keep bleeding,
that puncture your tincture;
for that lump is your fixture
of regret and remorse.

The lump does not whimper
until shadows are long,
the reruns on TV run into
the screaming of your song;
the drum solo hammers
on tomb-like front door;
a concert, just for husband and you;
the social worker’s knocking;
whatever will you do?
Published in the August, 2011 issue of Midwest Literary Magazine.
© 2011 – Dan Schell
Umi Aug 2018
Bodies sink into the depths,
Disappearing beneath the waves with no light,
The abyss welcomes them, offers them a new home: Despair.
Driven by frustration and the wish to return home, hatred is born.
Strong enough to break through the hellish, screaming cauldron.
This is my story too, the me standing right before you, is the one who sank into the bottom of her heart, disappearing in a hole of sadness.
I won't allow you to cross these waters, not without defeating me,
Sink, again and again, the cycle never ends, war never changes.
Even if your enemy might be your very self from the past long gone,
Give it everything you got and be ruined by the fate that chains you,
With every cycle returning, frustration, hopeless rage, envy and hatred are gaining strengh, losing more and more of themselves here,
Parts of yourself vanish between the iron bottom sound, where so many have fallen before, just to protect those who they held so dear.
But what is a war worth that has no meaning but greed at all ?
The things I held dear started vanishing long ago, rusted, dissolved,
All I am is a shell of my former being.
I am but just an abyssal.

~ Umi

- M i d w a y - H i m e -
palladia May 2014
[northern hemisphere: on a beach above the 50th latitude at the end of winter]

(Winter-export), the beach frosted by fingers of polar constellations. It’s too cold to walk without huddling now, spine-shiver-esque, but we do it nonetheless, because, we’re together. Your frothy hydro-rhythm spears in pith, irradiance, I breathe again, deeply. (Thick lips; quick still-hunt.) I rivet fronds of dependence into the seams of your boreal palms, never planning to return the floating colony of barnacles I promised you I’d throw back. You, never planning to catch the sun bored through salt spray, lasping onto crisp foreheads, stitching on glistered lips and froze-shut lashes. And on a day when you didn’t rise early enough, I was left out in the water until my chest was steeped deep in ice, over the thought of losing you. (Glimmering isle); my hair disheveled in sea-foam. Annular light. You pushed me in, and I relented. My isotherm is chthonically, sent. But you, in your legendary mantle, adapted my eyes to see the light hidden deep within your belt; such pinks and fuchsias I have never seen before, suddenly inverted. At absolute velocity, I cut my foot on sea-glass, bleeding blueshift, aligning to the colours of your heights. You take me back to the starry house and we struggle with your parallax, a nadir inseminated on the celestial pole. (Parsecs quaking.) You whisper, I’ll heal you. I’ll heal you, only if you let me. Only if… you let me…  Over and over and over until it’s as mundane as the crashing coast, and unrivaled, I concede to everything and wake up deep in redshift, the whole universe escaping me, suffocating in abyssal warmth-ribbons: without you. Alone on the ecliptic. In the spring-sinking, you order me an argent-laden sword: to remind me of you. I know you still appear, a guardian behind the sun, but until you fling the tiny ice-hot rocks at the zenith (freighting gemstones), I submerge myself into the bathic depths, skulking in aestival despair, as you slip from night to day. Little do you know, my resurgence is also in your hands.

[i watched Orion slip from view every night this spring. No doubt he’ll return next winter... it’s sad losing a friend like that, for so long]
vircapio gale Jul 2012
exude the moment;
you are a transformative fulcrum

of intersubject's rent and awe:
anthropomythic ecolaw

the dream cascades into words,
birds fly little crisps of meaning
into morning light. last night's
snow leaves a crystalline spark
of you subdued, become a finer point
of tantric sight, gazing rose-blue pulsar
lashing through a cosmic garden,
delicious fruit of spacious letting be.
i'm grasping for that pleasure,
vermillion moan of lifestring vibrance,
but the wind carries on outside,
swirling pieces of the mind in
flux of upturned joy~
our heartbreeze summoned,
now whispersssoulsounds to come
and earthly darkness grips the future frost,
thaw, break and steam as it wills;
the churning ground sings to us
of bear-sleep and jackal-howl,
of seasons transpiring,
one lost sled of memories
leaves us empty, pressing crystal sky:
my aching ideality trounced in bliss-meanders
!stunning revelation! you! You! yOu!
bringing all to be a second time,
as it was.. in me.. now new,
sweet novelty of union,
this gathering of nervure self,
gliding insights, sudden soundsss.

like a node of forest-echo swirls
it dazzles: unseen colors for my inner eye;
ancient tones of fog ripple
off something you are,
creaking center easing of my sidling,
spirit drop and wavelet growth:
as if you were a branching greenery
of my own once lost other-self,
last gasping there as what i pictured 'you'~
swayingss.. sun-spikes speaking,
sky-gaze and soaking barky iris sssuck,
moulding into me the wisdom of our past leavings,
those raspy kites of sap-filled yearnings
shadow sunshower evening.
i would be a tree with you and
let you pierce our foundations
with roots of gaiasight slipping though
our primal urgings, concrete deference
under sun arch, spin of moon. let
ignorant insistence on fetishized divides~
slipping past my grounded darkness
still unknown, remain
my underself unleashed
my silent trunk-swilling soothed,
stable chaos-other, self regiven,
life renewed in leaf,
the touch of you imbued.

the whole vision lost
but for that glimmer~
it finds me writhing unknown spirals:
ringing wonderment in a seed,
or dormant sporocarpic lineage of life,
the vast hyphae-humming cups of death-born
nethergenesis of cycled hyle me.
a womb that never knew of pain
or being evertorn in dessicated spectre-sea.

the burning desert-storms helixify our rain,
a heaving hiss-like suncry
from that dark, sandy baobabic throat.
the earth consumes in shifts,
and blossoms toward the alterbliss of you, too,
an expanse of solar flare
its beautific reach engulfing terribly,
nepho-logos spanning all the air.

ssssunlit boughs of winds' remembrance
grow soft across this window,
then shift with forest breath,
their snowlace puffed before
an azure true expanse,
the burdened greens stirring a needlish depth
of metawinter, all-too-human
starfields constellate in hiding
far behind my starshine there a curtain blue,
whose prismatic humor lights more
than scenic treescape, frigid dust.
hair, nose, glass enframed by sapless wood
of window cut to square my void revision of the world.

the colors whirl into mindflow,
inter-material upsurge-undulate,
abyssal cauldron seething passions stilled by
comic symbols of a secular mystic;
dancing eddies convey my sense of sight
just thought, then lost into a wider dance
of tensions eased and drawn,
of geometric visions seemly here and gone,
inner, outer: conveyed by stroke of
spinal eidos, its rhythm set
before my time, its tone the vital,
draping earthverse
recited in my veins, the sinews of my
life in other lives,
the song of us expressive in my gaze~
one blink()a single point of beauty
fades into another haze,
lighted icedrift iridescing evanesce.
anthropos (religion, Gnosticism) Man. (From Ancient Greek) [cf. Anthropogenesis, (an thro po jen’ e sis) n. Study of the development and origin of man]

myth·os/'miTHos/ Noun: A myth or mythology. (in literature) A traditional or recurrent narrative theme or plot structure.

*derew(o)- Indo-European root meaning "tree" or "wood"

Tantra, "weave, loom, warp"; or "principle, system, doctrine", from the two root words tanoti "stretch, extend, expand", and trayati "liberation"

Sporocarp (in fungi, known as fruiting body or fruit body): a multicellular structure in certain algae, lichens, and fungi on which spore-producing structures are borne.

Hypha · (plural hyphae). (mycology) Any of the long, threadlike filaments that form the mycelium of a fungus. The hyphae are used for reproduction and nutrient gathering.

hyle, In philosophy, refers to matter or stuff [fr. Gk "ulh" (üleh, where the ü is as in German or "lune"]

baobab, A short tree with an enormously thick trunk and large edible fruit. Other common names include boab, boaboa, bottle tree, upside-down tree, and monkey bread tree.

ne·phol·o·gy. n. The branch of meteorology that deals with clouds. [Greek nephos, cloud; see nebh- in Indo-European roots + -logy.]

logos, multivalent term fr. the Gk verb legein (soft g - modern greek lego ) "to say, speak" and also "to gather and lay down" ;  traditionally meaning "word, thought, principle, or speech"; also ratio (latin for reason), pre-linguistic language (phil.), the principle governing the cosmos, the source of this principle, or human reasoning about the cosmos. origin of  "(o)-logy." the active, material, rational principle of the cosmos; nous.  logos is marked by two main distinctions - the first dealing with human reason (the rationality in the human mind which seeks to attain universal understanding and harmony), the second with universal intelligence (the universal ruling force governing and revealing through the cosmos to humankind)

eidos, a term used by Plato for the abstract forms or ideas. fr. the Indo-European root *weid-, "see" is determinative of a substance; it is the key aspect expressed in the thing's definition as the essence or whatness of the thing. also (anthropology) the distinctive expression of the cognitive or intellectual character of a culture or a social group.
Andrew Rueter Jul 2017
The clock struck midnight
With an informative pang
I couldn't face it's music
So I turned counterclockwise
But time kept moving forward
As my wisdom dissipated
Bad times I anticipated

As I wandered through life
Burdens grew
Weight added with each step
My feet started to sink into the ground
So I got in my car
And drove
And kept driving
The more I traveled
The more I witnessed
The less I talked
As I grappled with the futility and necessity of communication

The clock warned of night's approach
I decided to continue driving
Luminous fireflies pelted my vessel
Their lamps exploding upon impact against my vehicle
The ability to destroy light
Exhilarated me
And I became addicted
To extinguishing that which shines
Until darkness flooded my engine
And an abysmal order was made by my abyssal odor

I had to exit my vehicle
And consult a mechanic
He explained my engine wouldn't work
Unless my windows were down
Which solved my darkness problem
But those ****** pests pervaded my car
Their locust glow disoriented me
The slight variations of their unique displays
Manufactured chaos within the light

My eyes grew accustomed to entropy
My brain grew accustomed to impairment
Commuters noticed my erratic driving
And offered to assist me
By attempting to ram me off the road
But the impenetrable light created a force field
Impalas couldn't run through
For my light bugs too much
Buffering me from others
And driving others from me
Leaving me alone
As a giant pulsating light that never stops moving
Is this how a star is born?
Can be found in my self published poetry book “Icy”
Andrew E Savage Dec 2011
My feet steadfast upon the soil,

The ground stirs beneath me.

The translucent smoke levitates about,

Seclusion claiming the sublime mountains.

The wooden sovereigns retain indefinite poise,

Exuberant with gleaming white flowers.

Ants traverse the green bridge,

Their mouths opening a seal to new life.

Elegant leaves flutter in the wind,

Their entities obscuring the radiant sun.

An infinite stream flows;

A waterfall is calling to me.
Life is unavoidably ecstatic,
at every scale, degree, level, dimension,
an oscillation,
season to season
day to night to day to night
cycle by cycle
wax by wane
by feeling
to feeling

always moving
both ways
all ways

crest, trough,
riding, riding out
and in
and through
and by
and by,

I could explode,
I might explode,
I did explode,
I do explode
though I'm contained,
boundary by boundary,

always moving
both ways
all ways

rainbows weaving spectral waving,
rivers raging, bodies growing,
organismic, oceanic, orgiastic
in-ing, out-ing,
holding, letting go,
flowing, flowing, flows
surrendered, building,
pursing, pleasing,
pangs, paining,
ripping, breaking,
sorrows to joys to shade to shine,
as chasms to substantiation,
as abyssal to full,
as burn to burning,
to smoke etheric,
to ashes, to ground,
all passions
as passions

pumping, filling, releasing
on-ing, off-ing,
living as moving
always moving,
breath by breath
by breathing, being
this to that,
a changeling,
always moving

always moving
both ways
all ways
Where the wind ruffles my hair
The rain kisses my lips
The sunrays embraces to keep me warm
And the serenity makes me break into a song
Or just a simple humming and wiggling
Where I can lie on the grass to catch my breath
And for hours watch the birds fly
And watch the kids play
Where the innocence once more beats in me
That I run up to them just to taste the shear joy in playing
Where I can spontaneously plunge into a river and then decide Whether to drink it's purity or drown in it's abyssal depth
Or just watch my reflection on its glistening surface
And drift off to distant thoughts with the shepherd's kulning
Where the farthest stars lead me to my deepest emotions
Where the silence of the dark night awakens my soul
There I'll make my bed
On the grass under the sky
And not sleep a wink
For I'll be already living in my sweetest dream
Juliesen Night Apr 2014
Into the eternity.
The abyss of questions,
And answers.

At the fear.
Of being immortal.

The man who did this to you.
Aric J Brisolara Jan 2012
My dreams are an interstellar spaceship
(gotta admit, that's pretty hip).
I close my eyes and they take me far
beyond the reaches of the farthest star.
There I sit and ponder
all the cosmic wonder
of life, love, luck and chance,
and all sorts of circumstance.

I look to the stars and see
hopes of life in natural beauty.
Every path a new possibility,
my wishes come near reality.
I look to the dark and see
my fears pooling in abyssal sea.
Undisturbed, they're left alone,
for by my hopes, they are outshone.

To me alone belongs this view,
but my dreams were built for two.
Alone, I feel the cold,
long for you to hold.
Come with me, I'll let you see
all the universe in majesty.
My dreams are an interstellar spaceship.
Won't you join me on this trip?
Vivian Alvarado Sep 2019
I am bitter as the wood
waiting to catch fire
I look forward to a good cry
at night
But mornings are good for me
I wake up thinking like maybe
I've mastered loneliness
Maybe I've mastered
filling up silence with just my breath

My spirit starts to get cocky
at how it's learned the rhythm
of a stone
rippling through the water
about to head home
sinking like some
deep sea creature
allowed to live
in the abyssal zone
20,000 feet deep in
nothing but my own
unshakable core
kevin hamilton Dec 2017
black lung whispered
abject terror in my ears
a circle of candles
and closed eyes
made plainly naked
by the thought of you
beneath the rising tide

i poured raw honey
down your abyssal throat
stole a different form
and fell into your arms
only sweet goodbyes
as i grabbed my overcoat
Ralph Albors Sep 2015
On the dawning horizon, Barcelona.
Above us, a quiet storm rages.
A meter away, Isabel,
with her abyssal draw-well eyes,
Silence as her name,
catapults for legs.

Your name, nothing more.
Your past and life, trivial.
Only your name was important
and I obtained it: Isabel.
It was but a physical infatuation,
completely platonic and surreal.
You whose name I will forget.
    June 31st
anastasiad Dec 2015
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Elizabeth Jan 2014
I want to be a safari woman

I will stand in a regal position with my elephant gun cocked,
Finger resting firmly on the trigger.
Will I dress as an Indian war leader?
Will I choose to look like a gentleman?
Or will my attire consist of camouflage paint and steel toed boots that walk with a purpose?
It may change daily, but I still possess the same desire inside-
To be one with this habitat so intriguing, so mysterious and concealed.

The rivers call my name.
As I paddle my silver bullet canoe into the abyssal waters ebbing and bending around my streamline vessel,
The water calms at my own will in a passive manner much like the coo of a dove

The trees know my presence
-Such a command I boast-
They know to bow at my arrival and whistle their harmonious flutters.
The babies cower at the sight of my polished machete.
The mothers stiffen when I equip it with a cool hand.

I am Simba.
I am ruler.
I own this land as my own,
And I understand it is needy.
I care for it in sickness,
I check its fever regularly,
I mother every animal, every bush,
And in return they signal their respect.

As the day ends, the sun sings "good night" and the moon chimes in with a "good morning".
I watch as the fish jump from the waters to catch their dinner airborne,
And the bats chirp above me while my campfire crackles in response.
I watch the stars mirror themselves onto the water, yearning to be remembered as something great.

A day of accomplishment achieved.
I am a real woman,
I am a safari woman.
sweet ridicule Feb 2016
I can't walk in
flowered printed heels
I've watched you study yourself in
the mirror
steady neck leading down to
gentle shoulders and halcyon hands
sour ideas filling my brain I'm
imagining my hands
sweetening your concerned
soft-muscled legs
into certainty
bronze-brown strands of curly hair
on dark grey seats
I sense dancing trees behind me
and savor the beautiful bitterness
of abyssal secrets
on my saccharine tongue
your collar bones are silken
and veiled with Taurus-led
mine are always veiled with
uncertainty and
sporadically veiled with
this was nice to write
Chrissy Mar 2019
Every step I take forward in the abyssal sand
I lose myself farther in your desert
I saw only dry bones and uninhabited land
but in this desolate wasteland you were my hallucination of an oasis
so I wasn't afraid to get lost in you
Blckstr Oct 2018
Stop the beating of my heart.
End my life and let everything
Be forgotten like a fossil in an ocean.
Cease me from living.
Bar me from breathing.

**** me!
****** a thousand nails into my chest,
Slit my rasping throat, cut my trembling wrist
And let my blood drip on the floor
Until it forms a sea, enough
For my horrible childhood reminiscences
To drown and walk off the shore,
Where I am the fragments of sand,
Trying to create a stone
Just to be whole, firm, and strong.

**** me!
Pour a hundred-gallon of water into my mouth
And let my pain evade and flow out
Of my suffocated body.
Maybe then I can finally say
"I'm fine"
Without trying to extend
My hand above water
Or trying to breathe bit by bit
While my lungs load a river.

**** me!
Pull my eyes out, so I won't feel my tears anymore.
Slice my ears, so I won't hear myself again yowling in mourn.
Break my legs, so I can finally stop myself
From jumping on a deep water like a stupid whelp.
Hook my heart out of my chest.
Bludgeon my head to death.
Maybe then, I won't feel for once
Like I'm a canary underneath
The undertow of an ocean,
Wings ripped off and flight unfound.

**** me
Because I can hardly breathe.
I'm drowning in the thought of being sad
While losing the reason to feel so.
Every day, anxiety drags me to my bed,
But insomnia has this silly prank of hammering my head.
I try to ask anyone for help,
But whenever I see people in my surroundings
All I feel is like eternally drowning.
They make me feel like a terrestrial flower,
Trying to breathe underwater.

Every night, I write poems,
Not to **** boredom
But to **** something that kills me -
Every letter I write on a paper
Feels like the water
Inside an aquarium where
I keep on suffering
And drowning forever.

I'm in the abyssal zone,
Too deep that even light can't penetrate.
Darkness engulfs me,
And light easily burns me
Take me from this depth.
Take me from this kind of death.
This depth makes me lose my breath.

**** me
Because living already feels like dying.
**** me
Not becase I'm tired of living,
But because I'm tired of dying!
**** me
Because it's suffocating.
It's asphyxiating me.
This darkness makes me
Hardly see
It feels like I'm dying forever,
And I don't want to die anymore,
I'm drowning.
I can never reach the shore.
Save me!
Jacob Thomas Oct 2018
Flames, flames, fire!

Hearts loaded with embers,
Begone flame, you hold no sway!

Pooled in blood,
The melting moon
Shines far above

Warming your frigid eyes
With shards of night and
Blaring beams of white

Crushing the natural mind
With ballads of war and pain,
Spitting moments of gore through
Abyssal pupils.

  Prepare this intestine of youth,
       Detach its origin and cast it unto

            A forest with one tree.

Then char the strand of mind in which
Fear reigns, scar it with the memory
       Of life

Let it kneel
to your flight
And Bring it fore your eyes,
Caging the slithering chimera with
     Immense cliffs of ice

Let it look to your matter
Yet never engage your voice,
Fluxing into your cells with terrific
Breaking off the origin and planting
It’s lessons in between the soul and
Offering access to any lost traveler
Drowning in a raging sea.

Embers in your heart,
       Fire consuming without,
       Fire empowers within
Amber Bowen Jan 2015
Thoughts of you echo throughout the hills of my mind
Like reverberations from a sweet symphony
As melodies drip off your caressing words
Falling… Falling… Always falling
Lasting longer than the ends of infinity
Soaring among broken dreams
Born as frivolous stars
Replaced by vast universes
Ones that invade the abyssal twilight of my night skies
Flickering and bursting all around
Splattering these walls with colored emotions
Painting the wondrous picture of beauty and pain
I couldn't quite settle on what to call this one...
Oh well.
Shane May 2013
… Today I fell in love with flow. As she pulled back the fabric of her luxurious wave encrusted dress, shimmering with an oceanic radiance, she would twirl into whirlpools with breathtaking fluidity. I gazed upon her empyrean heritage, her angelic countenance, bursting with wondrous reefs and soothing currents to spiral me downward into watery depths. She revealed to me dark riffs in her imagination, inciting outbursts from deep sea crevasses. Thundering underwater volcanoes join the tides of war, championing themselves with the discordant cries that surface and pop with a siren’s sorrow. She feels there’s an abyssal drop nobody is willing to venture across, but I’ve seen transcendence manifest in the deeps, and they glow and resonate with her generosity and grace. And as long as kisses are exchanged between shores, I will admire my love beneath the tide.
Metempsychosis and Dream

Dramatis Personae ---

nYxEr0s -
an umbral being wielding the soul "morpheus nyktelios", in the shape of the sword of nocturnal dreams.
he can enter the dreams and sub-consciousness of trees, rocks, rivers, droplets of rain and people in order to restore inner balance, or destroy it.
he is the principality of earth and water intertwined.
the personification of ****** nocturnal desire and the night itself, and he wields the power to restore, fulfill of destroy dreams.

IrUx0iD -
a name that is whispered in nyxeros' dreams. the inverted and warped spelling of the secret name of his second self, his one true love; The Dioskouri.
this astral phantom wields the sword "Philopannyx", because his power and reason for being is to love the night, and all that the night encompasses.
one day these two variations of one purpose will meet, fuse in a loving and resplendent embrace and then the universe will devour itself, overlapping it's inexplicable film of pure darkness, converge the surrounding nothingness upon it's solemn silence in the darkness, and then light will be born and life will begin anew.


An eldritch and wyld prescence has manifested itself upon these desolate shores. Emanating from the deep soil of a long forgotten world. Rich with life and benevolence, but also terrible cruelty. It is very old, and at the same time, very young. A will of old, and a spirit of youth. It has taken the shape of a human boy. He has come from beyond the river of eternal sleep. The merciless kiss of death and mortal undoing has left a crest upon that precious dwelling-place of his dreams and young intellect, as it is called in the world in wich his chtonic vessel now unknowingly decays. Now this being has come to us, in his final stage of sentience. Deep in his soul, the nexus of a bleeding ocean, a forgotten dream is trapped in perpetual waxing and waning. Upon his moonlit countenance, two glass-like spheres are set. They belong to him. This luminous soul, fettered to this pathetic configuration of earth and water. two lonely, dark and unfathomable windows into the neverending vacuum of his soul. lying there. poured into infertile soil. alien soil. a mortal coil lying in listless apathy. human apathy. what is this human doing here? from what resplendent dream did he sojourn from and traverse through. oh liminal, boundless being, your tragedy will inextricably unfold, like the petals of a perfectly nourished and complete lotus. there is nothing your dying body can do. the contriving universe has manifested you in this abstract realm for a reason. a purpose. to discover the hidden schemata and destiny that sleeps inside, and to encounter and seek out the other half. your other half. you are a split soul. a mysterious schizm. empty by yourself. whole and compleat when unified. he exists somewhere in this neverending desert of grief. precious limbs that was lost, and throbbing wounds gained in your previous stratum of existance, are in this world reconfigured and presented to you in the form of sacred gifts. weapons and protection and magic that you may wield in order to defend your heart, and the hearts of others in need. weapons of absolute destruction, or benevolent aegis. these curses transmuted as wonders we give to you. absolution for past crimes and malignancy we also give to you, precious dreamer. we exist to guide you. you will find that wich was lost to you. that wich you have longed for all these stringed existances. we incarnate you once again, so that you may resume this task. one day, the interlaced network of dark brooding stars that desperatley glitter and gleam inside of you, will reach out for that wich they yearn and interact and intertwine with your twin light. the one that was made to compliment and render absolute both of your insulated existances. this is the one and only true alchemy. in the black land, lies and misstruths are whispered by venomous tongues. poison poured from dread lips and fill the once pure air. tormenting all fragile life in this sphere. accept this sword, morpheus, in your hand and embrace the hidden music of the night. this is our gift to  you. accept them now into your etherial incarnation and your everflowing, grieving heart. wield your true gifts. wander alone beneath the dying stars of this world, and free the ones who dwell beneath and beside you. living in fear and despair. once you have done this, brave warrior, the hidden path shall be revealed to you, and your love will await at the ends of this universe. at the end of time. go now. into the endless night. dark haired creature. heart of the ocean flowing within. The death and rebirth of stars light the way through the neverending desert of perpetual night. nyxeros the gods whisper. a primordial name. a second gift granted to the warrior, so that all the creatures of this world may speak it and whisper it in benevolent tones amongst themselves. nyxeros had been wandering for 77 nights and 77 sub-nights. weary and lithe in limb and heart. he sat down in a patch of mysterious mercurial grass. everflowing darkness wreathed around him. framing his wyrd existance in silence and a subtle agony. he layed his sword Morpheus on the surface of silver beside him and shut his abyssal black eyes, and allowed sleep’s gentle touch to caress his mind and soothe his aching concience, and thus, for the first time scince he had awakened in this world, he fell asleep. he dreamed of planets making love to each other, and giving birth to supreme music that again gave birth to new planets. of galaxies exchanging wisdom and expanding into one-another. and of a voice, beckoning from some darkness. a darkness from a place in the nothingness. a hollow place. a compression of past, present and future. someone was calling to him. alien words that he could not decipher the meaning of. but his heart fluttered and a deep longing ignited within his heart of chaos. somewhere, in the infinite K0s:m0S, someone was waiting for him. someone had begun a journey at the opposite end of the vast darkness of space. wandering alone, and sad. but forward, always forward. towards him. nyxeros could feel it moving. a faint contraction of the fabric of space. a frequency so weak, barely noticable. but he could feel it nontheless. deep inside. nyxeros opened his eyes. the black stars residing behind the frail lids of his eyes eating up all the blackness of erebus, making the deep, black pools of his soul even blacker and deeper still. his left hand, engraved and scarred with terrible and agonizing poetry clasped around the hilt of morpheus. he stood up and peered deep into the horizon of chaos. The great and wide melancholia of dust and dead wind and withered mountains. The void and the chasm of his cleaved soul urging him to brave onwards. In the ever-expanding distance, a faint light was discernable. His black eyes could scarcely witness it, but it was there, without a doubt, and his heart convinced him that this was true. Something stirred in the distance. So he gripped the hilt of his dream-blade tightly, and began the long waltz towards the strange faint melting light beyond.
I wrote this as an experiment, to see what would pour out if i just kept on writing non-stop, without thinking about anything actually makes a lot of sense to me, but it's mostly just metaphysical mumbo-jumbo, and it's not polished, or meditated upon. Anyway, i just felt like posting it. my reasoning and agenda behind exhibiting this piece is as abrupt and cumpulsive as the mode it was written in. thank you-
Wren Djinn Rain Sep 2015
You are present
you are present
you are science, philosophy, nature and hate
you are the tempest and conduit
you are the energy forming and reforming
you have the power
to choose, to do, you do

Then why am I losing faith?
Then why has it come to this
juncture, where light I found
is lost
Puncture my lungs, go ahead
You won't let me back inside
from the slippery precipice
Abyssal black night tide draws

You won't lend to me the confidence
to enter, once again, the single
place I stand
Ronald D'Aguilar Dec 2014
You are amazing.

After what seemed like a lifetime of fervently searching through endless, abyssal, darkness, I have found a stunning array of the most spectacularly luminous qualities, in you. It may be hopelessly cliché, but you are the light at the end of the tunnel.

It is breathtakingly difficult to describe quite how fantastic you are. You are elusive, like a single, pure, white Trillium in a forest of ivy. Your beauty is beyond both simile and metaphor; to your form, there is no comparison. If it is possible for a person to be flawless, then I am sure that you are.

Every word you say captivates my undivided attention, and leaves me hoping for more. I am enraptured by every move your body makes. When you sing, I feel my pulse quicken, and I could listen for hours. When you dance, my eyes follow every action with genuine appreciation for your graceful motion.

No matter what I am doing, I catch myself thinking about you throughout the day, wishing I was next to you. You are everything I want, and more than I could ever ask for. You aren't afraid to laugh like a fool, or cry like a child, or scream at the top of your lungs, or smile like you've never felt pain.

Everything about you makes me crazy over you, and, sometimes, it's easy to question whether someone as incredible as you can even be real...
Cee Ching Jun 2016
When the salt chuck was mine
I promised to dance as the ocean waves on the smiles you grant

For the sea I was a trap of destiny
To the sand I was too slippery to stamp

I embraced the wind bearing the taste of brine
I rendered a pledge from your bright eyes into the sea’s chant

Every edge of this tedious isle
You were the unending aria

At dawn, you would passionately rip the queen conch
The hush of the gale would turn into wail

The sun would set as the shore would reflect
Your voice a ditty, a glassy reverie

When the hurricane arrived
You were carried away by fright

A zephyr into a whirlwind
Drawing abyssal rumpus into ordeal

I tried to hold your hand tight
But you whispered “this is what it’s supposed to be”

You carved the salt into your skin- a sight of crystalline art
And breathed “i found a better shore than your stormy coast”

It was only a sojourn you said
So you left my briny, dull and murky

The salt chuck was a wreck
The queen conch was whacked
To Adrianne who left my heart shattered for he fell in love with his best friend.
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
My god, I'm sick of belonging
I'm sick of being owned
I'm sick of being limited to what ever the **** it is that some ***** decides is fitting to define me as

you don't know me
I don't even know me
what the **** makes you think that you,
with your cookie-cutter shape, stereotype inducing, boxed-into-labels mentality of thinking is going to understand me?

I am a planet in my own right;
as a result of my own entity,
my own ******* thoughts and claims and efforts and achievements,
rather than as an assosciate of  another or a product of someone else

I am a ******* constellation of thoughts that your mind
could not even begin to fathom

once glance of my mind would send yours sideways

a one minute preview of what wraps itself around the deep,
bottomless, abyssal interrior of my skull
would entise you to smash your own

inside of me there are a thousand words, stirring
arranging the perfect sequence within their placement of my being
in order to concoct a storm worth being read;
not skimmed and mistaken as a light drizzle
but instead,
thoroughly scanned and recognised
as the tornados, the blizzards that they are,
kicking up a fuss and wiping out everything in their way

I possess an entire novels worth
including a sequel and trilogy

I am a story in my own right;
a book that you believe to have conquered and completed
a vaguely transparent, generic tale in which you believe to have mastered and defeated
but little do you know
that you have ventured barely as far as the first page

what lies within me is far beyond the reach
of the dainty intermediate level
in which you consistently surround yourself in
as though it is your safety blanket or comforter
as though you are a child with anxiety and mediocrity is your prozac

I am more than a brick in the wall of the kingdom
that you box your entire tiny, narrow universe into
and confine yourself within
in seek of refuge from a great perhaps
Tim English Dec 2013
In the beginning was the One, or was it None? One and the same and a part of the game. I saw past the Veil one day, through a blaze of infernal eternity that reflected every part of me, and it was beautiful, horrible, terrible to see but sublime to be at one time in a rhyme that couldn't quite catch, I snatched it back from the brink of abyssal void, a ploy to endeavour the ever changing rearranging pieces of mynd whych catch the triple meanings only seeming to be something other than real.

I know the code. Knock the pattern and enter.

...into the Center which is all and everywhere, I cannot share that which has no explanation in this limited expression of labels and words, it's absurd to think one could find or place infinity within a word. A definition is a limitation, a simple observation of that which has passed, a method of communication and nothing more.

Vibrate the word, then, and let the power seep through the intonation. That which has gone before shall come again, and paradox notwithstanding the opposite shall be true.

Assimilate that.
Jim Morris Jul 2016
Marching with Metal Madness
Within the Abyssal vastness
Sightseers' thrashing around
Blood reigning on the burial ground

Join the mosh pit
Bone crushing, take the hit
Snapping necks, skulls split
Flesh and blood plague the streets

Time for the third world war
Battle ground fills with an uproar
Corpses' will appear on the shores
Ocean waters filled with gore

Thee Earth burns into an eternal hell
As the ground crumbles from the cursed bell
This is Judgement Day, humanity will perish
There's nothing you can cherish

Survivors have nothing to gain
Only to mourn, scorned by the pain
Mental decay, agony and vein
Humanity left to ponder the bane

Warriors rise with a tendency
Bones turned into weaponry
Battles emerge with enmity
Death becoming the remedy

Lead your main attack into battle
Soldiers of war collide, combating
Both fronts push, bodies rattling
The weak left scrambling

Surviving souls filled with malice
Nothing but terror and havoc
Corpses' left to rot, eaten by maggots
What once was Earth, now left in Mayhem
My third poem I've written... would like this to become a thrash song one day...
Cody Edwards May 2010
He closes his eyes as usual. That starts it.
Gallon blackness against thin skin but split,

Suffused with a million rushed and serene
Shades of purple and sickly, retinal green.

Squares and curves, utterly vertical rounds
Imprinted obsidian spheres, half-sounds.

A vague intimation of abyssal, milk white:
Horizontal paradigms on the coast of sight.

Yes, indeed the whiteness on the horizon
Flutters scop-musical like a lark’s blazon.

How it snatches up the blackness, losing
Clarity of its edge like madmen’s choosing.

It ceases growing yet consumes all within
The poor man’s eyes, traversing the din.

A pure, blank line that is born in the mind
Fills the soul nacreous, leaves him behind.

Goes it beyond him and stretches open.
Straight wide. Too wide. Much too wide!

The teeth he hadn’t noticed crush him dog-brightly

And pull him fast inside.

He opens his eyes as usual. That ends it.
© Cody Edwards 2010
michael gagain Feb 2015
~Just for a Moment~

There she stands in the doorway again,
her beautiful silhouette highlighted against dim moonbeams.
like I've seen her look so many times before.
her ******* as hard as stone visible through the sheer magnificently beautiful
Victoria's secret silk teddy...

"Come to me my love It's Valentines day"
she came to me, slowly, methodically, gliding across the floor like the Greek Goddess
of love, even Aphrodite herself should be so beautiful...

"Sit besides me on the bed"
she took my hand, and I pulled her lovingly on the bed, "you've been a bad girl my queen, looking all **** for me" I kissed the corner of her pretty mouth and stood her besides me.

I bent her over my knee and watched the teddy raise up hey back, I massaged her
lower back and slid my fingers underneath the lace of her pretty *******.
I proceeded to grab a handful of heaven and tenderly squeezed...

And then to my excitement they appeared again...those beautiful white wings,
the same softness I lose myself in after our love making.
I slapped her *** and slapped it again, she began to whimper and I slapped it again, her whimpering making me stir in all the right heart falling into the abyssal pit of my stomach.

I reached between her thighs and under her *******, and lost a finger deep inside her beauty. she moaned and pushed against my hand.
I reluctantly removed my finger and tasted her essence.
why do I do this to myself I thought.

I stood her before me and rose off the bed...our lips meeting and our tongues dancing a deep, slow dance into lost oblivion. our eyes met and as always
her beautiful green eyes with tangents of gold melted me where I stood...
I felt my legs tremble...

I stood her at the side of her bed and gently bent her over pushing her head into the quilt,
she gasped...knowing what was to come.
I dropped to my knees and spread her *** cheeks to delve into her beautiful warmth
kissing her outer lips and driving my tongue deep inside her.
I grabbed her hips and spun her around, ******* slowly and then feverishly on her swollen ****...I could no longer hear her whimpering over the throbbing heart beat in my ears...

I spun her around again, and returned my tongue home, a home I adored.
then it came, she pushed back into my mouth hard, and came in my mouth,
Oh my...I love when she does that...

With her head back into the quilt I stood behind her, my **** in hand and rubbed it up and down the most beautiful ***** I have ever seen..
I teased her entrance with the head of my **** just a bit...and eased into her feeling her stretch and accommodate my thickness.
I was ******* her slow and deep, just as she likes, feeling her meeting my thrusts was so hot I thought for sure I was on fire..
Our rhythm increased as well as my pulse...I wanted this feeling to last forever...and I unleashed storm of *** inside my beautiful deep, it will still be leaking into her pretty ******* tomorrow.

her gorgeous wings, swept back against my skin,
and then...just for a moment....I thought I saw God....

(c) Michael Gagain/Black Reign

— The End —