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onlylovepoetry Aug 2019
the cherry blossom accord/equation

”perfumers use aromachemicals to recreate a cherry blossom accord...(an accord is a scent made up of individual aromachemicals, that when combined, create a harmonious blend where none of the individual ingredients are able to be detected on their own).”

the odor of our lustful eyes,

the sweat, a unique commingling,
a sheen of salted oils body bathing,

crushed green petals of peaches,
crumbled together with the softy fuzz shavings,
the sediment of aromatic fruit juices drippings

our blending bottled in our brains,
none other would recognize but we,
to too two smell each other through and over
floors, concourses, cities, disparate distances

our ingredients secreted (secret),
our flavors cell secreted (secreting)
the world’s silly tittering aroma inserted,
our sparking fingertips touching
add a bush burning burnt odiferous

we seat across from each other in an airport
plastic restaraunt and everyone asks out loudly,
what is that smell, feed me that, taste me that,
as we are irradiating the atmosphere,
as we renegotiate our cherry blossom accord,
fresh signatures, updated, harmony of harmonies, notarized

she smiles, I joke, winking,
we must continue
to meet like this,
the fireworks of we,
of us,
to-gather to-gether,
a getting of giving,
she answers:

take me home and
bathe me in love,
give our bodies shelter
from the world outside,
beside a new spice
have I uncovered,
this will require some
discussion+exploration,
the quantity to be added,
the when, and the how!


what is this new ingredient?
asking puzzled and aroused,
she laughs
(a spice already included),
why it’s called
only love poetry






8/23/19 4:55pm
So ends the Drama locked into your Bronze
Nike kisses you and shows you her Womb
Who, despite Angry Lads, live Life's Beyond
Now Married are you to Testimony
I guess you will survive the Afterthought
Of Promos and Parcels you will not Resist
The Wheel turns again; And in your Forenaught
Honest Advices refuse to make a Fist
You have this Resume of Deaf-Record,
Partial to Characters you do not Like
Even if they ask Penance for your Accord
Your Self-Righteousness slaps them in-spite.
What's the use? Your Friends will come to your Defense
Even if an Ant like me Stings to make Sense.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
L B Sep 2017
There comes the day
when the leaves plummet
at the slightest breeze
giving up of their own accord

bleeding victory of the trees
who lumber on
in winter's eyes--

I now can see
where the robins built a nest
in last year's spring
L B Feb 2018
She didn't care much
about the ruined stuffing
of the dead animal
Just the music box
exposed at its heart
like a cypher
of brass-colored keys
plinking away at itself

--a player piano* in someone's basement
to impress, entertain
less affluent
cocktail friends

Never took much
to sweep her away--

like the insides
of a music
box
resisting
curious fingers
to speed it up
or slow it down
learning how
to force
its secret
into her hand

Marveled when it skipped
at the broken pins
a minute glitch
finds holes in tune

as roll uncoils
to spring the ditty

“This girl has mechanic's ability”

Forcing mechanisms
noticing holes that catch at music
slowing  
slowing to sadden the song

Winding it up to hear  
again--
happy

Tears when it stopped

--the question
of why?
of its own accord
Thanks to Wordinthewillows, whose poems, The "Onyx Phonics" and "Angel's Share,"gave me the idea for this.

*Player pianos, working similar to music boxes, played a variety of songs when you switched the rolls inside.  I remember being fascinated  that no one was actually playing, and the keys moved by themselves.
zebra May 2017
i breathe
one breath at a time
each inhalation linked to the exhalation before it
yet every breath stands alone
there's something tenuous about it
this soft machine is on thin ice
devoured by time in innocent increments
like a moth nibbles away wool

my heart
little gorilla
wearing itself out
rubber glove with a hole in it
weird luck

my eyes are bright
solar blue ball lanterns

if you saw me
you would say
good bones
river of envy

yet all hinges
on a muscular rhythmic pulsating machine
like a determined jaw chewing
jumpy mouth

yet on the verge of betrayal
a glitch
karmic indecision  
in destinies wheel house
a red fist locus banging

ones immense sense of self
a vainglorious elaboration
built over a small pulsating muscle
innocuous

dumb blood flesh knot drumming
scarlet tribe
throne of my very soul
great sovereign
old man in a crib
splitting open of its own accord  
a sudden rip from life
to a dead sea eternity
the final frontier

starless night
Leena Beddawi Jul 2017
We ogle entertainment to forget reality
We write things down to understand history
We spell things out to maintain our dignity

But is that enough?
Sometimes we must
let go of reality,
relinquish dignity,
overcome history.

This is where the fear kicks in-
What drives you forward if not an oasis?
Who is in control if there is no escape?
        
Forget what you learned.

Grow by your own accord
Throw your hope off a balcony
And pray your mind will heal

**** your thoughts
and spare your fallacies
Starve your Ignorance
obsess over the unknown.

Accept your demise.
**** your pride.
Be unruly.
wrote this a while ago.
Empowered Manager, your Rules beknown
I'd rather you Teach how we must Behave
Or, filter these Concepts to his Reknown
And coat this Script for his role as a Knave
So what's new? Long does this Method wear
For the Centred Market your Profits invest
Though, we Illusioned, squeeze each dareful tear
Close his Next-Door Gates for an Open Contest
To be Fair, dear Sir, if we can afford
To pay for that trite, unsubstantial fee
I suppose his Skill to waters accord
Reward by Harvest; A Hero as he.
So yes I'm aware for such tweets I send
Were not his eyes for your mouth he'll depend.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
I arose one morn
from a venerable night,
Whence thou consum'd
mead til dawn's light.
My head torn asunder with a fierce pain,
My stomach in tatters from drinking games.

O all ye who know of what I claim,
A terrible recovery from alcohol's bane.

I made what ministrations I could, using cold water
and dry food. Alas, all in vain.
The hangover would not relent
it's cruel tirade. I gathered the clan
who endured a similar state
and told them of a plan
to cure our fate.

We'd venture forth from K-side
and seek alchemy
to ease our pain.

But first we must brave
the barren lands
of Westside
and the enemy that lingers there.
As we made the transition
from the wastes to the west,
We eyed the onset
of a looming threat.
Off in the distance
raiders roved,
Orcs in tracksuits
stalking the roads.
Heads in hand,
Our pace quickened.
Out from the grasp
of ragged estates.
Past Glen Dara,
Weary of raids.
Make it through
to the city we did,
And set a course for
where the alchemist lived.
The prize almost within our grasp.

We called ahead to secure our purchase,
Only to find
nothing, emptiness that hurt us.

Sigh I did
with a heavy heart,
But with a pounding head,
Deterred I was not.
So onward we marched
to millennium's park.
There we spoke to a sage
of a man about a dog.
A malady we would have.
There were ill omens about
all that we did hear,
They spoke of men captured
who we did revere.
The wise-man foretold:
"The tidings are bad, the city in drought,
There be no mortal to solve yer doubt;
But all's not yet lost. To acquire your
remedy
you must give a shout to the apothecary".
With the prophecy foretold he disappeared,
Leaving us to ponder
the wise and the weird.

With a new hope
we began our approach,
We communed with the figure
and opportunity arose.
An accord was reached,
To the square we'd go.
At forty to five
the apothecary would show.
Finally our way, luck did flow.

Meet him we did and for twenty five gold,
A bag of magic
we were sold.
Tuna sandwiches on white bread
Carried in a paper bag
Josh Groban on the CD player
Season Three of 2 broke Girls
Matching shoes and purses
Vacation in the Pocanos
Subscription to People Magazine
Pennies in a piggy bank
Silver-beige 4-door Accord
A little college but no degree
Always ten pounds overweight
Celebration meal at Sizzler
Artificial Christmas tree pre-lit
A mole that wants removing
Off white walls, pale green carpet
Outfits from mail order catalogs
Paydays with no yearly bonus
Jeopardy and Wheel of fortune
Polyester perm press everything
Bic Stik ball point pen
Swanson's TV dinner
Flip phone with no camera
*** two times a week and Sunday
Writing verse nobody reads
ljm
I was thinking that my life has grown boring, and that started me making a list of all the most boring things I could think of.  Never been to the Pocanos, but I do have pennies in a piggy bank But I wouldn't write with a Bic Stik if you paid me.
Am I happy?
The answer is in my face
They call me a disgrace
to this human race
For I can not keep up
with the pace of their world
They let me live on one accord
That is that I will not drive the sword
through my already broken heart
They say all this
while watching me
fall apart.
Heavy Hearted Aug 2017
to turn into  the whole wide world, the one that I design,
the one with lights of glistening gold
and wonder undefined.
Is to ignore the very brutal truth, on one's own accord,
ignorant and powerful, a
mistake one can't afford.
So here I am, as usual, how deeply I deny,
that "everything isn't so bad"
I stumble in the lie.

..maybe one day i'll get to see, right through the guise of gold-
the one disguising my whole life
the one denial upholds

Goodbye tomorrow- stay away- I wish to be no more.
my heart contorted, my mind deflates as
my soul and spirit tore.
response to Karen O's "Hello Tomorrow"
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