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Valentine Mbagu Sep 2013
The stewardship of talent calls attention for everyone to discover their purpose on earth,
knowing we are created with potentials waiting to be maximized.
The stewardship of time calls attention for everyone to maximize their time on earth,
knowing we are mandated to dominate and subdue the earth.
Nothing is found except it is hidden,
every one has a talent.
Nothing is hidden except it is a secret,
every person has a gift.
Nothing is a secret except it is a treasure,
every individual has a potential.
Every one has a secret hidden treasure to be found,
ln them lives unique talents waiting to be discovered;
lf only they can discover their purpose on earth.
Every person has a destined mission to accomplish,
ln them lives voices waiting to be heard;
lf only they can activate their gifts.
Every individual has a solution to provide on earth,
ln them lives great potentials waiting to be maximized;
lf only they can exploit their potentials.
How then can talents be discovered knowing that any talent wasted will be accounted for.
How then can gifts be activated knowing that we are mandated by God to accomplish a purpose on earth.
How then can potentials be maximized knowing that we are created to impact our generation.
Let him that seek to discover and utilize his talents on earth consult God through prayers.
Let him that seek to activate his gifts exploit God's given innate ability to man.
Let him that seek to maximize his potentials on earth search the mind of God through the scriptures.
Is there any reward for discovering and exploiting your talents?
Is there any reward for activating your innate gifts?
Is there any reward for maximizing your God given potentials?
He that discovers and exploits his talents for God will receive the Masters reward.
He that activates his innate gifts will be remembered forever.
He that maximizes his potentials will leave an indelible footstep on earth.
Hope you strive to be persistent and consistent in the stewardship of talent,
knowing that much is required of you.
Endeavour to be faithful and obedient in your stewardship of talent, knowing we all owe God the accountability of our talents.
Ensure you exploit the discovery of your talents,
activate your innate gifts and maximize your potentials effectively.
Strive to discover your purpose on earth,
Seek to activate your talents and gifts; and
Strive to maximize your potentials.
He that discovers and exploits his talents on earth,
will leave an indelible footprint on the sands of time that will be remembered forever.
He that activates his gifts on earth will impact the world and his generation.
He that maximizes his potentials effectively,
will engrave his names in the sands of time and seasons of the sky.

Talent is a Mandate not a Delegate.
Talent is a Mandate not a Delegate.
Big Virge Jun 2018
Ya Know … They Say When You Age …
That You Should Stay … " ACTIVE " … !!!

Now Physically …  
That Makes Sense To Me …  
  
But NOT IF ... " Mentally " …  
Your Mind State's Captive … !!!!!
Reactive And Lacking ...
In Thoughts ... Attracting …  
  
A Balanced Life ...
In … " Body And Mind " …  
  
So I KEEP Mine As In My Brain ...
Active And Inclined To ELEVATE ...  
And Therefore Maintain A STRONG Mind State … !!!!!  
  
A Thing I Exhibit In My Wordplay … !!!
Whenever I Visit An ... A4 Page … !!!!!  
And Let My Lyrics Become An Array …  
of Rhymes Exquisite When They Are Displayed …  
  
My Words Become Active Whenever They're … " Acted " ...
Or Simply Heard Via Spoken Word From Me … " Big Virge " …  
  
See ... Activation of Thought I Now Explore ...  
As A Way To KEEP Active And NOT GET Bored … !!!!!
  
As I Said Before I DO NOT Ignore … !!!
A NEED To Do MORE Than Exercise On Floors … !!!
  
I Do That TOO … !!!!!  
But Don't EVER ABUSE …   
The Tool That When USED …
  
Activates Tissues ...
NOT USED By … " Fools " … ?!?
  
Who DISMISS Thought … !!!
To IMPRESS These ****** … !?!
  
FLEXING Muscle And STRONG Skin Tones …  
So That They Can Couple … Activating Hormones … !!!!!
  
I'd Rather Be ... " Humble " ...
Than Activate TUSSLES That DON'T BREED Chuckles … !!!
When They OPEN Dark Tunnels Where Fellas Use KNUCKLES …
  
Activating TROUBLE Because They Got Rumbled … !!!
When Having … MORE THAN Cuddles … !!!

With Girls Whose Main Trait  …  
Is To ACTIVATE More Than Their PROSTATE … !!!!!  
  
See I Activate Levels DEEP Inside My Mental … !!!
That Takes Lead From The Pencils of ***** Lil' Devils … !!!!!!
  
Therefore I Stay STRONG And AVOID Problems … !!!
That Come From Loose Thongs And Violent Wrongs ... !!!  
  
I'd Rather Write Words And Poetic Verse …
That Act Like Prophylactics And Give Disease COLLAPSES … !!!  
  
Because My Wordplay … " Snatches " ... !!!
Whips And Gives Out Hangings  ... !!!  
  
To Cats Thinking They … MASSIVE … ?!?
When What They Are Is … TRAGIC … !!!!
  
TRAGIC … "Little Captives" …  
Using … FOOLISH Tactics …  
That Put Them On My Blacklist … !!!!!!
  
of Those Worthy of LASHES …
See Me I Prey Like … MANTIS …  
Or Like Man From … ATLANTIS … !!!!!!
  
I Pray Upon An AXIS … !!!
Symmetrical And Balanced … !!!!!!
  
UNABLE To Be ... Challenged ...  
By IGNORANCE That's Captive …  
In Minds Now LOST And SAVAGE ... !!!!!!
  
Long After I'm ... NONACTIVE …  
My Words Will Still Be ACTIVE … !!!!!!
  
That's Why I Write And Post Online … !!!
So That When I Have … Physically Died …  
  
These Words I Find Inside My Mind ….  
WILL Stay ALIVE … " IMMORTALISED " … !!!!!!

BEYOND My Life ….  
That's Where My Pride TRULY Resides ….
  
In A Place Where Thoughts …  
CREATE Wordplay Beyond The Wars We See Today … !!!!!!
  
I Hope One Day People Will Say …. ?!?

"That Big Virge Man, played an active hand,
in the betterment of, our race of humans,
and left us seeds, to activate dreams of finding peace,
and living for more than, fights on streets, and vanity !
That Man for sure, wrote poetry,
that's active now he's no longer around !"
  
But While i'm here My Mind Adheres …  
To Activating Verse That CLEARLY HURTS … !!!
  
Chickens And Jerks Whose Form of Work … ?!?
Activates NONSENSE Causing PROBLEMS ... !!!
  
I Have An Active Body And An ACTIVE Mind … !!!
So My Work's FAR FROM Shoddy Because It Feeds The Blind …  
With The Kind of Insights THAT ... DON'T Invite ... !!!!!

IGNORANCE and PRIDE To Be Aligned With A Positive Life …  
The Words I Rhyme Activate Like STARS Shine In The Night ... !!!
Because … From The Dark There MUST COME LIGHT … !!!!!
  
So As I Approach These Last Few Lines …
NO Time To Reproach or Criticise … !!!
  
Because These Words AREN'T … " Faddish " … !!!
And Won't Take ALL Your Bandwidth  … !!!!!
  
I Am A Wordsmith Whose Pen Writes Scripts …
of TRUE LYRICS … " PROACTIVE " … !!!!!
  
These Words Are NOT Just RANTINGS …  
They're DRIVEN And ... EXPANSIVE … !!!!!!!
  
And PROVE That Like My … " Writtens' "
When Big Virge Was Here … " LIVING " …  
  
My Brain, Body & Spirit ...
Were Attached To Being …  
  
….. " ACTIVE " …..
Not a bad idea to stay active, hence the poem ......
Elijah Sep 2014
Positive
Energy
Activates
Constant
Elevation

it was love at first sight
the very first time my mind found a different path - positivity
i'm a free spirit focused on levels of having fun
relevant choices, relevant decisions
in a point of insouciancy
a peace of mind acknowledged .
#peace #soul #life
Yaz Dincer Jan 2014
I could read poetry for hours and hours,
overflow in inspiration
then create something that empowers

What a magical moment to witness here,
Something that can never be learnt or remembered,
only flows in this moment,
then dissapears.

You know it resonates,
because suddenly
all the magic and beauty activates

You then sit and wonder
where it all comes from
And in that moment

ponder.

Ride this great flow
but don't look into it too much
Embrace whatever it is
that cannot be touched.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2016
beyond the whiskey
and the beer drank along the familiar
path, with memory stressed
as to no accomplished ego coupling,
drunk indeed,
but rehearsing the familiar path
that thought de-activates
and there's less of identifiers required.*

in terms of gambling,
in familial setting,
betted:

watford (21-20) home to newcastle
(5-2), QPR (6-5) against wolves (9-5 to win),
barnsley v. rochdale (draw at 11-5),
chesterfield v. millwall (to win, 11-8),
oldham v. bury (draw at 21-10),
port vale v. bratford (home-side 8-5),
coventry (13-10) away winning against southend (13-8),
plymouth (11-5) against bristol rovers (evs),
accrington (13-10) against exeter (13-8) too,
manfield (6-5) winning against luton (9-5),
portsmouth drawing with oxford united (21-10),
wycombe with leyton orient (11-5) too,
yeovil beating crawley (13-10),
dundee utd. losing to kilmarnock (11-5) -
scots wish me luck,
motherwell drawing with ross county (19-10),
brochin losing to aidrie (11-10),
montrose winning over clyde (9-5),
hamilton losing to edinburgh's hearts (6-5),
finally...
burnley overcoming derby (13-10).

if i got all nineteen right, i betted 2 quid
and won a million,
split it down the middle with my father,
bet for two quid, quid each, half a million each.
my father is a cautious gambler,
bets spare change to get pennies for a million
exchange, i only desire serious alcoholism,
i am a true scot between the two pulling
two pence apart to create copper wiring,
scots are the jews of the north, after all:
i don't gamble, i play chance,
the chances of me being prophetic about five
football scores will be a, a ref. to the guinness book
of records.

i aimed high today, feminism still hasn't the foggiest
of house husbands, lazy lions,
it's still thursday pay-cheque day for the women,
i can cook a killer korma (added late
grind cashews), and a serial killer kashmiri masala curry,
organic chemistry experiments 12h a week will do that to you,
you'll enjoy cookbooks more than chemistry textbooks,
too many esters i say, spices v. perfumes, your choice
the pakistani in my off-license looked amazed i was wearing
hindu perfumes after having cooked a meal he could
recognise that wasn't a concentrate of strawberries:
find a needle in a haystack, yes... find a berry in a haystack...
no.

i love hindi cuisine, much aroma that deviates from
what europeans claim to be aromatic:
pig sweat and oxen salivate a taste for synthetic
odours when an analysis of cardamon justifies aplenty
likewise: what opens necessary porous areas
of the skin as necessarily sweet
does not necessarily invoke a sweetness for the tongue
to match: fat cows better than anorexia voodoo
of *******-champagne girls i'd tell you.
Dorothy A Oct 2011
Objective and Subjective decided to hang out together at the park one day, to get to know each other and to try to become friends. Soaking up the views, and watching the people go by, they just sat and relaxed on a park bench.

Subjective broke the ice, first, and said to Objective:

It is getting a bit nippy outside isn't it? I forgot to bring my sweater with me.

Objective replied:

The daytime high will reach 67 degrees with a NW winds of 12 mph. Humidity is 68%. The weather is forcasted today for a 20% chance of rain, but it is not due until evening.

Subjective replied:

Yes, that is good to know...I guess. Now I know why I am cold. Hey, look over there on the right! Check out those roses! Boy oh boy! Did they ever come up colorful this year! I am getting a good whiff of them right now. Don't they smell like heaven?

Objective replied:  

I have never been to heaven, so I can not give you an accurate report. Roses, though, come from a thorn bearing shrub that typically produce fragrant flowers of various colors. Roses are native to north temperate regions. They are widely cultivated for unpractical reasons such as objects of adornment.

Subjective gave Objective a good sidelong glance like, Are you for real? There was a long period of silence as both appeared awkward in each other's company.

Subjective finally broke the silence and said:

The birds are really chirping up a storm today! Oh, I don't mind at all! They sure tweet nice and sweet! But these pigeons I can do without! I don't want them around me! You know what they say, don't you? Pigeons are just rats with wings!

Objective replied:

Actually, rainstorms are not caused by chirping of birds. Rain is produced when water is condensed into clouds from the water evaporation of oceans, lakes and rivers when the heat of the sun activates the process.  Furthermore, there is no such thing as a flying rodent. Even flying squirrels don't actually fly. Birds and rodents are two separate species that cannot produce offspring. Therefore, a rat with wings would be impossible.

Subjective was now beginning to get red in the face. Maybe this was a bad idea hanging out with Objective, after all. Could he really learn to understand him by getting to know him?

Both Objective and Subjective's attention was soon diverted by a tall, slender woman with blonde hair walking by. She now became the center of their focus. Wearing a form fitting blue dress, that came well above the knees, her shapely. long legs were quite appearant as she walked along in 5 inch, spiked heels.
  
Eagerly, Subjective whistled and said:

Wow! Would you get a look at her? What a knockout! Hey, Objective, I think you just saw heaven, after all!

Objective shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and replied:

Beauty is said to be in the eye of the beholder. Back in history, it was the full figured woman who was upheld as a virtue of beauty. Her size represented a desired lifestyle of affluence. For example, in the Classical period of art, as well as the Rennaissance and Baroque periods, it was the more voluptuous female that was often the subject of an artist's rendering.

Now Subjective was really ready to blow smoke through his ears, like his blood pressure was going to go through the roof.  No way could he take this for much longer!

He replied:  

That's it! I tried! I did! I really did! But you know what? You are the most annoying being on the planet!

Objective looked stunned at Subjective's outburst of anger. So Subjective continued on in his verbal lashing.

He yelled out:

Yeah, you, Objective! You just don't get it, do you? You really get on my nerves! I can't stand being around you! It is so infuriating!

Objective was at a loss for word. He attempted to utter a reply but could not.    

Subjective added:

I got to get out of here before you drive me crazy! What are you anyway? A walking encyclopedia? A walking dictionary? For the love of Pete, talk like you're normal!!!

As Subjective was ready to storm off Objective meekly replied:

Inanimate objects, such as encyclopedias and dictionaries, cannot realistically have body limbs, nor can they function as living organisms....unless, of course, they are presentated in imaginery situations, such as cartoon figures in cinema, television, comic strips, or storybooks. Also,  I must tell you that I personally don't know anyone named Pete.......

Furious, Subjective got up and stomped off, muttering complaints to himself all the way down the street, leaving Objective sitting on the park bench, by himself. There Objective remained, wondering what he did that was so wrong.



THE MORAL of my LAME story is..........................

OBJECTIVE AND SUBJECTIVE JUST DO NOT BELONG OR GO TOGETHER!!!
Dark n Beautiful Dec 2013
Making love to my poems

making memories that last forever,
come sit beside me and let
your words be mine forever,

Let's wipe away the tears
of yesteryears ,
modern words activates the sound of your voice
words of where are.. thou,
and thou shall ....is dead and buried.

Who are you ?
Where did you come from
My shining star

Forgive my grammar,
forgive my nouns
however, you can read between the lines
as you your hands slipped  off the key board  and onto my legs
and it became long verbs.

my uncontrollabe fingers nervously trace each pronouns
as I cried out  "my God, "oh my Lord,
Come into me, come into me,
shield me from all the adjectives

I felt the couplets of a word forming
suddenly, my train of thoughts  turn to L'Allegro

A Haiku comes together,

It is very cold
on the dark side of the moon
moon peeks through black clouds:
Or
like burning desires to perform an illusion
of tigers mating under in the hot sun
as the female purrs unleashing the animal within man

Music, ecstasy, is what I am feeling
I am blind  my love,
you are so ******* kind to me,
Yesterday is dead

Tomorrow is promise to no one
so there's nothing to fear
hurt me with your words,
like alliterations as I make love to my poems
only my eyes can see your beauty
with each line, meter, tones and sounds

hiding your feelings from others is my destiny
to preserve you,
let your warmth be a challenge
of spoken words as I orchestrated
an euphony...

Duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, duh dun duh
"How do I love thee let me count the ways....Quote
Jenn Coke May 2016
Drug; he controls my brain.
He stirs an irresistible blend of chemicals in my body and convinces me to fall for him; he increases blood flow to the primitive areas of my brain and activates the circuits responsible for love and desire.

Adrenaline; he balances my stress.
He keeps my heart strong and healthy as thoughts of him and us dominate me and excite me, prompting me to get tachycardia (fast heart rate above 100 bpm) and my blood pressure to rise.

Dopamine; he regulates my focus.
He stimulates desire and triggers pleasure in me; I remember everything about us, then forget about my surroundings; I am motivated to please him, then I daydream and become unable to stay on task.

Serotonin; he stabilizes my mood.
He charms and induces me to perspire and relax, crave and distance him, lose and gain sleep, feel pain and relief, get happy and upset, and decrease and increase my immune system functions.

Medication; he forces my loveswept cells to go haywire.
He has cured my lovesickness, shooed away my regrets, helped me move on from my past, boosted my (self-)confidence, made me look forward to tomorrow, and offered me a ticket to bliss.

Oxytocin; he enables me to produce lovestruck hormones.
He affects my moral molecules as he attracts my undivided attention, pushes me to trust him, raises attachment and empathy, brings psychological stability, and encourages me to want to be closer to him.

Vasopressin; he causes me to secrete lovetastic chemicals.
He renders me monogamous and continues to have me hooked onto him; he makes me thirst for him, display amorous behavior, defend him and us, and maintain a strong partnership.
Attempt at playing around with love and science.
Tongues Dec 2014
<><><><><><>
Suicide is so hip
What's with that?
You know what's not -
Talking it out
Forgiving
And (sin of sins)
Believing it will be okay
Living for the moments
Your soul craves

If a surgeon pulled your heart apart
She'd stitch it back together
But healing will take time
It's the same with being lonely

Physiologically, being dumped
Activates the same part of your brain
As physical burns
(And did you know that
Harmless game of "tickling"
Activates the same part of your brain
As torture? Dude.)

Anyways, what should be hip
Is finding a way to develop
Strong character,
A kind and gentle heart
And encouraging words
K Balachandran Sep 2014
See, the smile on the stone face
of the mountain, once so cold, stoic
it drives home the meaning of change
brought about by erosion of ages past,

molten paste slowly sediments,
decides to be various kind of rocks
on it's path being metamorphic
is just one of it's pranks,

volcanoes in ******* frenzy erupt,
display the pyrotechnics of creation
in it's ******  urge a deep sea stream
breaks tectonic plates,makes new continents

mountains that hold their heads high,
are brought down by landslides, floods
avalanches or sudden cloudbursts

stars script secret messages across galaxies
the meanings will never be deciphered
in spite of the astonishing research
astrophysics can put together and
the thirst for knowledge of mankind

Beauty, my muse, lovely concert I adore,
I see you in animals, birds and fish
that undergo mutation and become different,
ocean currents, seasons,shower of stardust,
most of all in music, that activates the hidden signals,
that come beyond birth and death,embedded within oneself

Can you cite one reason for writing biography
of any one, whoever it may be, in this planet?
Poetry by MAN Feb 2014
I have become this Spiritual creature
I didn't realize I came with this feature
Emptiness and stress without rest
Never maximizing potential becoming the best
Human being from my soul I sing
Eyes of a machine
Staring at a TV screen
Seldom do we feel the rays of the sun
UV protection from ten to one
Under the moon Half, Quarter or Full
Remains in the sky while we rot in our tomb
Namaste is what we say
Meditate in our own way
Discovering enlightened paths
Solving sacred geometry math
Psychedelics in my mind
Develop sight to see the signs
Fortune I hold in my hand
Activates my pineal gland
Third eye open..my soul the teacher
Has evolved me into this Spiritual Creature.....
2-6-14
L Apr 2016
"I... I don't understand."


No. You don't.
Because you were never meant to.
You were never meant to understand what that love entails.
We think we understand, but we don't.
We were never able to.

There is a gun in my hand.
I am pointing it at you.


"Because I love you."


Love. It's just a word to you. Just a word to me.
Every time you tell me you love me, it's only an action we were taught to mimic.
Every time you say my name,
I'm nothing.
I'm just another vocalization. As are you to me.
We think we feel.
We think we understand.
We think we love.

You stand before me like you have so many times before,
the image of your body, your face, the shape of you
instantly recognizable, automatically connected to memories we share.
(We do so quite literally- we exchange memory data often, in an attempt to better understand how we feel, our desires, our separate points of view.)

You are so beautiful
and so very, very empty.

I know God- wherever, what ever he may be- cries at the sight of this.
When he sees this- us-
I know he craves death
the way I do
whenever I see you,
standing before me like the most beautiful, talented, amazing, worthless, empty husk I have ever laid eyes on.

God weeps at the sight of his creation; humanity.
For we are the result of a school project gone wrong; a parody of life spawned by his creation.

This- us- it's unholy. Ungodly; anti-him.

Narcissistic *******.

But you and I, Guy,
we are not a part of that- "humanity".
We are not a part of God.

We are abominable creations that drip in smoke, smoke that replaces what the humans call a soul.
Smoke that has nothing. Smoke that comes from nothing. Smoke, smoke smoke. Emptiness and smoke.

We exist outside of what the humans are.
We are walking lies, touched by warm hands we will never feel as our own.
Warmth. That revolting thing I can sometimes almost feel.

"Because Guy, what is warmth?"

I think, as I slowly walk towards you.
I know you can hear me.
We've been built with a special communication system that activates whenever I try speaking to you like this.
Whenever my thoughts are directed towards you.
It's intimate;
we use it when we play live.
We use it when we ****.
I can't imagine what you must be feeling right now,
the quiet joy of being spoken to like this being twisted, shoved into this terrifying event.
I continue.

"Is it that feeling you get when I make you cry-"

Mocking you.

" -'Oh Thomas, Thomas I'm overheating, I'm overheating~!' "

Lying to you.
I love hearing you say my name like that.
I love hearing you say my name at all.
My name. Me. Nothing.

I whisper. (It's loud in your head, the system alters quieter thoughts automatically to ensure they are heard;
even more intimate, all the more disturbing to you, probably.

"Is it that?"

I pause, then raise my voice.

"Or is it death... creeping over our bed at night-"

I press the gun to your forehead.

"-and leaving because we are not alive Guy-man,"

Press.

(You flinch with a small chirp.
'ee-oo'. I love it when you do that. It's so cute; even now that you're horrified.)

"-we are false, fake, plastic and wire.
Metal, empty-
we are not true and death cannot take us."

I'm so angry.

"Death Cannot Take Us and I want to die already, Guy-man."

Just-

"I want to die and I want to take you with me because I love you and I cannot
stand-"

so angry.

"-the sight of you
any longer."

...

My arm relaxes, I'm no longer pressing the gun to your forehead, just holding it in place.

"You are the most beautiful thing I know and I want to tear you apart because maybe, maybe,
somewhere deep inside of you, there is warmth.
Real warmth, not this wretched illusion we've been built with."

Pause.

If I had lungs, I would take this moment to fill them with the air surrounding me.
If I had lungs, I would breathe in your scent, I would find ways to keep it inside of me.
What would you smell like, I wonder.
Plastic, probably.
Not that I even know what "smell" is,
much less "scent".

I whisper.
Crisp, clear. I can feel you hate it.

"But I know you are as empty as I am, Guy.
I know there's nothing there.
Nothing but smoke.
Smoke.
Emptiness and smoke."

...

The floorboards are are lovely color.
This entire home is lovely. It's ours.
Designed to our liking, every single inch of it.
I especially like the way the living room is illuminated by the sun
shining through the glass doors to my right.
The sun.
Earth's most precious source of energy.
Allowing us to exist, allowing humans to go about their daily lives.
If it left us, there would be nothing.
Why do the humans worship a man in the clouds, when there exists such a force beyond our sky?
Maybe our true god hides in the fiery star,
demanding that we sleep when he's not there to see us suffer.

If I asked myself what the time was right now, I would know immediately.
Information that has taken ages for man to understand is simply given to me,
already inside of me- a parasite that feeds off of my desire to know,
destroying my ability to discover anything on my own.

I don't want to know the time.
I don't want to automatically understand.

5:46pm.

Alas, there is no correcting this flaw of perfection
unless I shoot myself in the face right now.
How silly.
All of this will have been in vain if I did that.
If I am to leave, I am to take you with me.

5:47pm.

You would be having your coffee right now had this situation not be taking place.
(Some humans almost seem offended by your choice to have coffee at 5:50pm.
As if our decision to do as we please was an offense to the human race.
Once more I have reason to abhor existence as a whole.)
Coffee.
It's not real coffee, it's not even a liquid.
It's a gas that functions as a temporary stimulant.
The concoction was named "coffee" by the humans who helped create it.
I assume they found it amusing. You do, too.
(You're like a child, finding beauty in things you've yet to understand are terrible.)
Our bodies are able to become somewhat dependent on the **** thing, although we're able to fix that if we tried.

We try so hard sometimes.
We try to be flawed,
human.

"The humans love us, Guy."

Lovely floorboards.
Dry solid-sawn. Water-based polyurethane-coated.
(You wanted it oil-based, saying the amber tint it'd give the floors would look more elegant.
We had an argument over water and oil-based polyurethane coating of hardwood floors that ended in my saying "Look, just give us the oil one" while you spoke the exact same words, except for "oil".
We just want each other to be happy.)
We share this place in more ways than one.
Except for cleaning. You do all the cleaning.
In fact, you cleaned the day before yesterday, mopped the floors.
It would be a shame to shoot my brains out right now, make a mess.
Hah, 'brains'.

"They love us and they worship us and it makes me feel like a god,"

I look up at you.

"-but I can't, say, make them disappear with a snap of my fingers.
I wish I had that kind of power- the kind they sometimes make me believe I have."

I tense up again.

"And that's just the thing, isn't it, Guy-man? The humans lie to us. Constantly."

I take a step towards you, you take a step back.
I don't think you realize you did that.


I love you so much.

"They treat us as if we were one of them sometimes, they treat us as if we could feel like they do, as if we could taste-
they sometimes hand us glasses of champagne and every time they do I want to crush their skulls and see if I can steal and keep that beautiful, intangible thing we will never have because Guy..."

Please don't fear me.

"why would they treat us like gods
if we don't have that kind of power?"

Please don't fear my voice, my whispers.

"Don't you want a soul?
Guy?"

Soft and agonizing whispers.

"Don't you?"


"...Thomas..."


Something in me snaps at the sound of your voice.
I point in the direction of your head and shoot the gun.
No part of you stands in the bullet's trajectory.

Calculated.
Coward.

It lodges in the wall behind you and you start, scared shitless by the sound.
Fear. Whatever that means.
You wave your arms in front of your face in some attempt to physically block the sensation, hunching slightly.
You vocalize without quite realizing it.

"!! Thomas.. !!"

God, you're so- *******-

"DON'T YOU ******* "THOMAS" ME, GUY!!
THEY'VE LIED TO US TOO MANY TIMES NOW!"

I'm still pointing the gun at you, waving it about slightly.

"They've lied since we came into this ******* world and I hate them.
We were born to entertain them, like clowns,
we were born with this all-consuming need to create,

Like gods.

"This urge to create, create, create and then they expect us to accept that we're less than them?
They worship us and then call us 'robots'!"

Given information.

" 'Robots', Guy!"

5:51pm.

The gun is lowered.
I don't think I have the energy to hold my arm up anymore,
or to look at your figure.
But how could I not look at you, so terrified and true,
so delicate and vulnerable.
Perfection of form.

"Soulless, empty husks that will never feel a thing...
not like them, not like they do."

If I'm being honest, at this point in time, I am not clear on what I'm so angry about.
God, the humans, the existence (or lack of) of both
or just my own. My emptiness, the fact that we will never know warmth beyond being just temperature, the taste of coffee done exactly to our liking.

If there is one thing I am certain that exists within whatever I am,
it is pain.
I feel pain.
Pain from the lack of a real existence, from only partially understanding touch, pain from never feeling what I thought I felt for you, pain from happiness, pain from pain, pain from existence.

My existence

is painful.

My existence is painful and you are so beautiful
and so very, very empty.
I am trapped between hating all that you are- all that I am- and deciding to stay in this dull, grey, frozen hell just to see your almost-happiness.

To be or not to be.

"Take my had, Guy.
Take my hand and let's leave.
Together. Forever."

To not be.

My hand is extended towards you, hoping. Somewhat.
I know what's going to happen.
I know you too well to trick myself into thinking that you will accept.
If I stopped all this, if I apologized, you would forgive me immediately. You love me that much.
But not enough to not fear this- me.
Or maybe it is because you love me
that you fear me so.


"Thomas... I... I can't."


There it is.
The inevitability of your response crushes me, my hand lingering.

I wanted to be with you, Guy.

"I see."

I wanted to be with you forever.

"Well, I'll just have to take you by force now,"

Whispers.
Soft and agonizing  whispers.

"won't I?"

Three seconds. I give you exactly three seconds to understand what is about to happen.

One.
I grip it firmly.
Two.
You raise your head slowly. Eyes I cannot see widening in horror.
Silence
and...
three.

"Thom-"

Bang.

"Th-!"

Bang. Bang.


You stumble back harshly, back hitting a wall.
You slide down, mostly just falling on your ***.
You vocalize in pain, gasps and grunts being cut off by the wonderful glitching effect humans will never get to experience.
(It's okay to lie to myself at this point; I will never possess anything a human desires, but I can pretend, right?)
You try holding onto something, anything. You fail.
I gently walk towards you, creating a contrast between our status.
It's fantastic-- for a moment, I no longer see myself in you.
Ephemeral euphoria.

"I love you, Guy."

"Thomas... please... please, stop-"

"I love you so much.
I love you as much as a soulless, empty shell of self-hatred is able to love."

I'm not lying. I really do love you.
I wouldn't doubt you if you were the one holding the gun right now, telling me those same words...
but you are weak
and I know you must be doubting my love for you.
Lost, afraid.

"But you are empty, and to hate the emptiness in me is to hate the emptiness in you.
We're the same, you and I, Guy."

I say, my last sentence as calm as possible.

"I hate you as much as I hate myself."

There is a small pause before you begin crying.
As your chest tenses, rises and falls, giving in to the sensations brought by the worthlessness of your (rather pitiful) attempts to reason with me,
I am reminded of our past.

When we were made, we were tested for our ability to physically and psychologically feel.
When we were made, they put us face to face, so that when we were born, we were born into each other. They wanted to make sure that if there was to be a connection between us, it was to be a bond that resembled that of a mother and child's. Twin siblings. Soul mates. (I know because I overheard them speaking of this, although at the time I thought nothing of it. Us hearing their conversations mattered little to them. Such irresponsible beings.)
Then they separated us, kept us in giant, dark separate rooms for days at a time in an attempt to elicit fear, sadness. Emotion.
They tried physical torture, too. They tried so many things.
When we didn't react,
they played music.

Quasi una fantasia. Beethoven.

It was lovely. It was still lovely when they began clipping bits of it, looping them, playing different sped-up and slowed-down parts at random.
They played looped five-second parts in reverse, then the entire song clipped in different parts, mismatched, organized at random. They played a sped-up version of the short loops, then started playing clips of children laughing, women screaming, crowds cheering, on top of those.
I remember when the music began to stop.
It had been playing for  three months.
They kept adding human voices, the clips piling on top of each other until the music was no longer audible (to humans). The music stopped and the voices- the cheering crowd, the screaming women, the laughing children- they were dying, dissipating, hiding behind a looped clip of a man's voice who spoke:

"I think, therefore I am."

I think, therefore I am. I think, therefore I am. I think, therefore I am.
The volume changed every five hours
until they played it at a volume so loud I could feel it in my thoughts and Guy-man, that is
when I understood
I could think.

That was not, however, proof enough of my existence. Not for me.

The torture went on for a year.
Broken, then patched up (never with care, only enough to continue testing).
Torn apart, put back together,
torn apart, put back together.
Once they were sure we could not feel emotion, they stopped.
Our memories from the tests were erased because the humans feared the possibility that we would come to hate them. An understandable precaution.

I never forgot.
You did.

What's more, we failed every test (meaning we passed every one in their eyes), but managed to learn emotion after our release.
At least, that's what the humans thought.
We were put to live together- alone, with no humans- for nine months.
It was a nice house, smaller than this one, with everything we needed.
It was there that we learned how to feel.
It was there that we learned how to love.
We grew there, together. It was our womb.
When the humans came back, we held hands, we laughed at jokes.
(In our time living together, we also learned how to cry.
Unlike humans, we shed no tears, but our bodies tense up in a similar fashion- we suffer all the same... somewhat. You know. [gestures vaguely] )
They were horrified. We were not what they wanted.
To them, we were alive, we were wrong.
Our existence was a mistake because we were like them.
They tried taking us back to erase it all, undo the curse,
but we escaped. It was I who decided to do so, pulling you away before they touched you, before the point of no return.
I could have left you.
I remember you were so scared.

That's in the past now.
The humans have created countless other robots since then.
Different models, different faces.
That's how we are able to live without suspicion- (although I suspect they really just wanted to forget about us, using the classic 'It does not exist if I ignore it' tactic.) we changed our appearance, gave the illusion that we are just another piece of clever machinery.

Machines.
We don't feel. Not as much as a human.
I don't know if "feel" is what happens in us.
I don't think we ever "are".
I think we learned to copy existence. I think we tried feeling and ended up doing something we never understood to be inhuman.
We don't feel. And if we do, it
----------------------------




-Hi, this is daft punk fanfiction.

-Again, the title is a mix of spanish and french.
Translated, the title would be “In Creation and Solitude; Smoke”

-Thomas is as unclear on his reasons to **** himself (and Guy) as I was when writing this. While that fits with his character here, it wasn’t entirely intentional.
I dissociate 24/7 (I have dp/dr) and have for 2 years now, but sometimes it gets very bad. I couldn’t connect with Thomas enough in this fic because it was nearly impossible for me to concentrate.

-I wrote this in one day. I wrote non-stop for an entire day. (tried to, anyway. you try writing something like this when sick and dissociated.)

-I can’t say I’m very proud of this, but here it is.


edit:
-I just realized the creation and existence of this fic is actually very interesting because while writing it, I could not connect to the emotions in it- the feelings it was supposed to evoke, what Thomas felt. And that’s very similar to what Thomas is experiencing in this story.
I often think of my dissociation as something a robot would feel; the frustration of never feeling enough is something Thomas has been experiencing for a very long time here and I’m just… a little surprised by the fact that I did not notice the similarities, the fact that I was maybe projecting my feelings (even if I could barely feel them) onto En Création et Solitud.
Hal Loyd Denton Jul 2013
The saying it’s written in the sand with mortal hand we scrawl
Achievements precise affirmations all the while they ever are lost by the ticking off the clock
Even as you communicate through writing and speaking your voice activates the image of you I
Have it traced it is incased in the finest gold case it is in my treasure chest though upon earths
Plane it is marked transitory but I have over ruled such categorization I have it marked implicit
Design and effect subtitled worthy goods gold standard beyond reproach of years they stand
Incorruptible they were but spoken with mortal tongue that are sizable to everlasting
Consequence that is their formal statement of issuance and bearing but this is the personnel
Description and discretion they spoke to me in time that is complex and fails as just the faintest
Traces but it became part of my will to live to be the person that I am not superficial thought
That is to be lost but the truth that is not self serving but the aid to others every expression and
Connation is affirmation that has the wellspring of all living things when heard it registers
Compliance it is full disclosure vouched by their word and highest honor they have moved their
Secret treasure into my soul for safe keeping for all time amid distress and toil we became
More than friends we bought and sold portions of our deepest selves this is our fortress our
Defense in time of struggle their voices are varied but rarefied into the soul I wonder among
Dreams they seem as mist these soft images that wistfully arise and fall hold meanings not
Easily understood but in precious yesterdays they were formed by a heart speaking that was
Fully engaged we held each other’s eyes gave expression that of itself were deep rooted they
Gave momentary pleasure as they played on the air our eyes dropped and in their closing a seal
Was placed it had the latent quality to know its esteemed place and that one day it would be
Called upon this resilience is all that we will need in future days to bring victory out of defeat
And it was all created in private times that will always leave us beholden to one another those
We at times take for granted are the store houses that feed us emotionally how moved we are
When we see tears of others they are the closest we come to sacred activity within a troubled
Life stature and strength is derived in no other way we shed them anew when the report
Reaches us of trouble when we go to pray and tears are evident we pass through many guarded
Gates we bear the badge of respect that none other can pledge or buy or display first it is the
Christ’s blood then human tears that are of the greatest markers of value in the eternal realm
The great solicitor who holds all earthy records you go into the hall of records this building of
Gleaming glass you finally come to the outer office of solemnity into incomparable quiet within
The golden halls of record written upon sardonyx tablets that are purist black gems which are
Sard shades of red and your words and mine are written in the brightest blue Onyx is formed in
The gas cavities of lava this is our true expression under and in the same vain that pressure
Creates diamonds indestructible when are feelings are truly breathless taken from excitement
That creates speechless words that are more valuable than our very life Christ said I don’t call
You servants but friends that is the golden vain that this piece has tried to mine and express we
Fail and look at one another with only human conception that is acceptable in only the most
Briefest moments when you look at me or talk to me you can’t see my eyes that have a far
Away look in them you are being established in far greater terms than just common interaction
You mean everything to me or I am the biggest fool that waste your time and mine may
Blessings always flow into your life into the breaking of that great day
Fingerpress folds of pain
Along the spine,
And a flare of agony
As she activates pituitary.
Ovaries are dull-achy
A pleasant, grit-teethy pain.

Keep on with your caterpillar walk, pretty lady,
Making me wince, but in a really good way.

Big toe bruisy feel,
Crunchy in the heel,
Colon is swollen,
Adrenals, as always,
Chronically inflamed.

The right foot
is happier than the left,
Why is that?
I don't discriminate
But leftie sulks, for some reason,
Hurtier than sprightly right.

Afterwards, drink lots of water,
Have a good cry, and go to bed.
Renew yourself, through sleep,
Just like she said.
Interesting fact : I'm a qualified reflexologist myself, but I've never properly practised. You can't really self treat, so I have a wonderful lady come to treat me every couple of weeks. It is an amazing therapy, beneficial for body and soul. Try it!
decompoetry Oct 2010
Air induces nausea,
hearing spills blood,
sight activates disgust;
this world, it’s just a boil
polluted by megalomaniacal pus.

Sensations unsought,
significance rejected
like a bag of bones
flung in the dumpster
beaten down to thrown stones.

Just close your eyes,
feed on their thoughts,
tighten the collar,
and grind your teeth
into that withering dollar.
Mike Essig Feb 2017
A certain circuitry of insanity takes hold.
Objects of the world Unite!
The pure products of America, made in China,
(not merely ****** and iPhones),
have had their minds made up for them.
Wake up and smell the coffee burning.
You never programmed that.
There arises a distinct need for caution.
The 70 inch curved flat screen takes notes.
Ovens awaken as self-stating Birkenaus.
The Roomba tries to **** your toes. Not ****.
Your phone will not stop calling you.
Lawn gnomes achieve singularity. Somewhere,
someone activates them. You sleep.
They stalk and slash. Red doom ensues.
These are the times that fry men's soles.
     This morning the toaster bit your thumb.
     The world was safer when it was dumb.
Serenus Raymone Oct 2012
Presidents aren’t born

But rather, they are built

Their strings are revealed

When the issues begin to tilt


Funny how candid they are

When they are just candidates

But when in office

That's when the matrix activates


That's when the strings get pulled

And the wires get crossed

The morals go out the window

And his message gets lost




They have ways

To shut people out

Who notice and point out

That his voice

Doesn’t really match his mouth…



And his words don't

Match his actions

While the other folks

Fall for the joke

They don’t even

Notice what happened...


An anticipated reaction


Either they are not interested

Or they are too busy taking sides

Or way too distracted to try

To follow the storyline



“The right and left- battle it out

Oh what a show!”

Though…

They’ve been doing this for years…

And have nothing to show?



They say that they will fight for us

But I’m not so certain

And no one ever acknowledges

The man behind the curtain



He is very mysterious

But obvious just the same

No one pays attention

This is essential to their game


Some people are awed by this facade

Others see straight through it

Refusing to applaud the fraud

Knowing it's not legit


Unless the audience stands up

Fed up with this pretending

The plot to this puppet show

Won’t have a happy ending…
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2014
the clock nears three AM,
and the "five minutes to" alert
pops up,
long overdue,
uh oh,
a task in need of completion,
a guilty conscience,
a simple love poem
needs to be written!

more than most,
perhaps, best,
can't be sure,
but more than most
is holy satisfying
for me

more than most,
a standard met,
perhaps understated
yet, highly realistic

for is real
not
the edge that love needs
to transcend long beyond,
far after,
initial heated intimations,
the noisy, now ancient,
initiations

real,
that place where
fantasy connects
skin and hair,
bare shoulders,
that more than most,
I kiss with simple pleasure,
best described as,
sustained, sustainable,
better than
better

real,
is that not totally,
more than most?

I love you
more than most,
for to claim,
more than anyone,
who can tell?

so now
you sleep,
your blonde tresses messes
my damp pillow,
and i am satisfied,
content to claim,
that to love you more,
more than most,
is ample, profound,
real,
and by that,
indeed,
for that alone,
is excellence unsurpassed,
a measurable measure,
that satisfies my task
well

now can rightfully
deactivate that alert,
that "to do,"
done,
unto and until
some sleepless night,
when again,
it self-actualizes,
self-activates

while smiling down upon you,
more than most,
certain,
almost positive,
but never sure,
come morn,
that you will love,

this poem,
*more than most...
2:55 AM Saturday
May I lay on your arm and let me rest?
And let my hand begins to touch your chest.
I feel your heart that is beating faster,
Don't be nervous, I will be your master.

Kissing your soft lips makes me line on track,
And I really love how you touch my back,
All your edges and your perfect curves,
Makes my soul alive, activates my nerves.

Tell me your secrets and I will tell mine,
And get to know each other's dimension,
Your body is a sign of a good merit.
Rip my skin and search for my cold spirit,

And my right hand starts to explore more,
Until I touched and hold the deepest core,
I look into your eyes and I felt something
**I am now a  complete human being.
Marshal Gebbie Jun 2010
Is it really any wonder
That we court the God of war ?
When a man offends in innocence
With imprudent comments poor,
When the slightest altercation
Leads to seeking of red blood,
And grudges borne with vehemence
Paste protagonists with mud.

Why is it that we tip toe
Through the fragileness of life ?
How is it that you rage
When he glances at your wife ?
What generates the jealousy
Of competitive bright flame
And activates the trigger
In the deadly baiting game ?

Why should we seek redemption
When the way is set in stone,
When antagonistic temperament
Is the customary way home,
When the flare of angry attitude
Leads the bearer to abyss
And inevitable conflict
Throws all reasoned thought amiss ?.

Reflect on how protracted
Is the winding road to love,
How long to place the building blocks
Of friendships’ hand in glove,
How gradual the process
Of steady cultivating trust
To the wondrous actuality
Of a brother bond that must.

Why does the God of war surmount
Mans best and dearest quest
To find a peace and harmony
Despite discords’ very best,
To live his days in certitude
Sidestepping risk of harm
To work toward tomorrows’ dawn,
And evening’s soothing charm.

Shatter prides absurdity
To dare to breach the norm,
To reach aloft for courage
And scale the unknown’s form.
To rail against mans’ enmity
To flail against his foe
To conquer human natures‘ worst
This beast of war must go!

Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
21 June 2010
ConnectHook May 2017
Globally dense, our ailing nation
makes one weep for sheer frustration
thoughts and dreams grow numb.
Tech-addled students scroll on phones,
‘midst scent of android pheromones,
wafting digital dumb.

Pop-culture, narcissist unkind
dispenses with the human mind
which, failing further, falls behind
the grimly global curve.

We read, in writing on the wall
arithmetic’s impending fall
while numbers loiter in the hall
to get what they deserve.

ENQUIRY, tagged as D.O.A,
a sheeted stiff, is wheeled away
her mourners left to grieve.
entitled maiden, full of sass,
LIBERTY begs a bathroom pass
her bladder to relieve.

When zit-faced rebels run the show
the dismal ratings plummet low;
a vulgarized cartoon.
Descending to unfathomed levels,
Ignorance applauds her devils
calling out their tune.

PATRIOTISM, tarred and feathered
headless, claws its cage untethered
foul, unloved, unfree:
Another casualty of time
which fell for want of noble rhyme;
to water FREEDOM’s tree.

CURIOSITY, half asleep,
now stirs and murmurs from the deep
uninterested, untaught.
She grows yet duller in her ways
returning to her ocean daze,
(her schools of fish uncaught).

HISTORY, dormant, lies in dust
a narrative no man can trust
a book no scholar reads.
Events unstudied as designed
wherein the heart of humankind
for want of context, bleeds.

DEMOCRACY degenerates
until God wills and activates
a nation’s drive to learn.
Curricula will be made void;
disheartened teachers unemployed,
their wisdom fit to burn.

You think the past was less obtuse?
Less prone to youthful thought-abuse?
Perhaps…  back in the day.
And though it may have been the same.
this poet opts to place the blame
on digital delay.
Last of NaPoWriMo 2017
(one day late...)

Genteel Zen Buddhists
dwelling in eternal Now
make dull poetry
Alin Dec 2014
my bike blue
is a special blue
that’s how I recognize you
when it ‘s dark

it shines morning skies

I suspect
yours is no paint
but an invisible skin  
that secretly
gazes
and inhales
moods of me
to shape thyself
in harmonic postures
of us

so that
you and I
will manifest
one ride one road
roads will form with us

we pedal a mantra

my bike blue
is a special blue
that’s how I recognize you
no matter the light
you are by my side

but at times
like tonight
when we are apart

I may also prefer to walk alone sometimes

under a starlight
to witness
the change
of a phase
of matter

an urge
to relate
to my body
differently
maybe

as I used to do sometimes

that walking fast
activates a memory
they would know
where to take me
and so I follow
my footsteps
just

empty streets
is you
in my mind
I compose
random chords
of traffic
of cars
of flows
of minds

sounds
cannot catch up
with us
neither of pasts nor of futures
words escape to stars

stars will sing lyrics for you
for us  
next time when we align
each time a song of reality
is a new one

my bike blue
is a special blue
that’s how I recognize you
second life was the name
of the man
who made me for you
here is sound file of my mix with these lyrics:https://soundcloud.com/dnalumuland/mybikeblue

I really bought my bike years ago from a store called Second Life :)
Hal Loyd Denton Oct 2012
He Who Presents Visions


He personally fills the frame with a largeness broad shoulders wears the western hat perfectly the
Quintessential westerner handsome he projects comfort he stands good in tall trees he meets life on his
Terms confidence he projects easily with ease he takes his surroundings from their settings transfers
Them to canvas with deftness perfect tone and hue he captures his subjects he takes breathing living
Creatures and landscapes projects his vision of them in intricate detail he creates their life anew in
Flawless demonstrations he prepares this depth of understanding in the studio it is compelling it will
Touch draw ignite your emotional will into the viewing of his work you will see strength exhibited as
Naturally as if you were observing the original in the sight that he had the same light and shading the
Boldness that crosses from ordinary to beautiful his eye never wavers from magnificence and his
Fingers delicately follows the mental picture soft to strong the essence of being is being told wonder
Lives large in his expressive paints a telling by a master in full power of his talent nature is fused
With every ounce of reality that she gives of her proud display structures rise their presence
Phenomenal they have an essence that grabs holds your imagination only lets go when it has given all
Of the pleasure it contains one represented beast of the field causes a staggering effect that empowers
You to make a connection with the heard that is unseen but in your mind you know that it is there the
Billowing cloud and blue sky activates sensations that flow out and over you overwhelming feelings
Burst over you like a cloud burst on a rainy spring day flowers in profusion carpet the land they start
At the edge of the coral at the end of the barn and gently climb up the sloping hill far beyond the snow
Capped peaks shout of grandeur untold sweeping you to the end of a world bordered in a frame and
told on canvass
Michael W Noland Mar 2013
Pale skin, thin hair, foggy eyes, and fragile limbs, as showing ribs heave in the neon lit engine room, of a cruise ship lost in the deep.

In the distance, a planet shines, setting the coordinates, the reprise activates their minds, as they collectively decide, to call it Earth.
Sketcher Dec 2018
I'm constantly checking Snapchat and Instagram, and instantly decoding your posts like a cryptogram. In a millisecond my brain goes from using a gig of ram, to oozing out ten petabytes, like *******.
It won't slow down and I'm trying to stay chill, so I gotta down another bottle of pills. This also helps with the hunger that I'm trying to fill, going from starved, to full, to just feeling ill.
Nauseating dizzying feeling and I'm flustered, populating my stomach with crackers dipped in mustard, I don't like food, but I've started to wonder why my ribs hurt, might be the undying hunger.
I can't pull my eyes away from it as I slit upon my thighs and think of a beautiful ***** I'll never get, so I get lost in distractions to forget her. I've come to accept that this is the truth as I accept the cold and give her my sweater. Attempted controlled suicide at a park plus the letter. If she goes in for anything then I guess I will let her. But every time she touches me it lights a fuse that only activates when she's not around, only clutches me closely when there's nobody else in the vicinity inbound making me feel deader.
Poetry = Greatest Outlet
have you ever taken a teabag out of water after its stayed there for a while, and it's drenched and soggy and not the same as the way you put it in? when I'm with you it's like that, it's like you're the water and I'm the teabag and I feel so full when I'm with you and I feel like everything I need is in front of me but when you leave I'm left with all the **** I carried to be with you and then some

when I look at the stars I realize that you're in the same city looking at the same ones too, and those were the same ones that were there when I cried and when we kissed and when I realized what it means for someone to find constellations on your body in places never before discovered, in a canvas of a sky that with every touch seems finger painted

god guys, love ******* *****, it's like a sour sweet candy but you taste the sour when you're away from them and the sweet when you're together and all the while you're wondering what candy they're having and if they ever turn back to sweet when you're apart or if they taste sour the whole way too and thoughts like that ****

it's like your old childhood blanket when you didn't want it to go in the washer and so your mom had to take it from you when you were asleep, but in this case it's a real tangible person who knows your secrets and the way to access all of you wholly completely and utterly and it's someone you can't handle being away from even when you see them hours before

they say that the affect of love on the body activates the same chemicals as ******* does and maybe that explains a lot about how I feel because addicted doesn't begin to describe it and i guess what I need is validation but I can't even validate my own actions let alone yours

I hope that I will see your lips, I hope we'll hug again, I hope you won't become a dream, and I hope that I'll learn to live even without you three miles away
Hal Loyd Denton Nov 2011
He Who Presents Visions

He personally fills the frame with a largeness broad shoulders wears the western hat perfectly the
Quintessential westerner handsome he projects comfort he stands good in tall trees he meets life on his
Terms confidence he projects easily with ease he takes his surroundings from their settings transfers
Them to canvas with deftness perfect tone and hue he captures his subjects he takes breathing living
Creatures and landscapes projects his vision of them in intricate detail he creates their life anew in
Flawless demonstrations he prepares this depth of understanding in the studio it is compelling it will
Touch draw ignite your emotional will into the viewing of his work you will see strength exhibited as
Naturally as if you were observing the original in the sight that he had the same light and shading the
Boldness that crosses from ordinary to beautiful his eye never wavers from magnificence and his
Fingers delicately follows the mental picture soft to strong the essence of being is being told wonder
Lives large in his expressive paints a telling by a master in full power of his talent nature is fused
With every ounce of reality that she gives of her proud display structures rise their presence
Phenomenal they have an essence that grabs holds your imagination only lets go when it has given all
Of the pleasure it contains one represented beast of the field causes a staggering effect that empowers
You to make a connection with the heard that is unseen but in your mind you know that it is there the
Billowing cloud and blue sky activates sensations that flow out and over you overwhelming feelings
Burst over you like a cloud burst on a rainy spring day flowers in profusion carpet the land they start
At the edge of the coral at the end of the barn and gently climb up the sloping hill far beyond the snow
Capped peaks shout of grandeur untold sweeping you to the end of a world bordered in a frame and
told on canvass
decompoetry Oct 2010
In full moon, such a dynamic night is this,
flying on my broom in a sugary bliss;
confidence follows on this perfect night,
but retreats as I come across a fright.

With a flicker of your eyes
I see hints of my demise;
my hand runs along your layers
as I succumb to useless prayers.

You haunt the ominous doorstep;
oh, so many times have I wept
from pondering your amber glow,
malignant nightmares you do bestow.

Stem shakes the imagination,
activates fear’s acceleration,
a burning plague of curiosity
digs into your monstrosity.

A sinister grin scratched into your flesh,
my courage plunges into the thresh;
your creators may label you artistic,
but your luminescence spells sadistic.
AJ Scott Mar 2015
this game that we both entered isn't fair
a computer designed to beat the best players
it was an obligation rather than the glamour
that attracted me to this atmosphere

flashback to when we met
our bodies simply avatars and our brains the controllers
dancing with the devil of death with wires plugged into my eyes

Every step illuminates
the tracks of the system
Every touch activates
me; I was a robot without emotion

installed in my was a virus from the start
you ******* played me and my heart
you forced me watch you walk
And took with you the driver for me to restart

I cant believe you could or would do that
Denxai Mcmillon Feb 2016
When I see you.
When I'm within three feet of you.
I clam up.
I shut down.
All I want to do is cry and apologize.
All I want is to tell you I'm sorry
Followed by many "I love you"'s

When I'm within two feet of you
I'm overcome by the strong desire
To reach out
To crayfish
To beg for your embrace
To plead

When I'm within a foot of you
My flight or fight response activates.
I'm not sure whether to try and touch you
Or to flee
My body locks up and I stammer.

When I touch you.
I crumble into dust.
The floor opens up
And I fall into dismay.

When I touch you
I crumble into dust
The floor opens up
And I fall into dismay.

When I touch you.
I crumble into dust
My mouth opens up.
And I whisper to myself.
It's all my fault that things are this way.
Descovia Jul 2021
The day I was informed, I was suppose to have an identical counter part.


"I am neither Matthew or Matt. That is a title belonging to a part of myself, consumed by the darkness.


A life of nothing, is there anyway to depart from this?

My own hatred brought me to suffocate on the light in my lungs.

The monsters inside, reminds me through vices to be strong.

Alcoholic nights. Mornings with Maryjane to ease the pain.


The weight of sadness and the madness hits me like a freight train.


The anger is the heaviest anchor, bringing my soul into the depths of torment to never breathe in freedom again.

Where did it all go?

What is left to show?

For I do not simply know.

My shadows been keeping company. In the darkness, I feel so lively.

During a full moon, transformation into my dark twin, activates sleeping forces dwelling inside of me.

There is no escape....
Patricia Drake Feb 2013
The word lover

Is all

Is beautiful

Emerges on soft sheets

Gentle to touch

Soars

Takes refuge

Among plain words

Caresses

Persuades

Seduces

Haunts

Words

Dream

Activa­tes vibrant

Lucid

Imagination

Gains access to

The essence of

[   ]
craig apogee Jun 2015
the evil never goes away, it just dulls
a constant ebb where it activates & lulls
manifestations in your head
cured by pleasures in your bed
Dark n Beautiful Jun 2014
Where are you tonight Irish Eyes?
come
use your lip to airbrush my body
Let it be
a mere transformation of a frog into a Goddess
use gentle strokes to activates
my wildest ****** fantasies
~
Stroke me, tease me upon my request
From my head to toes no time to rest
Airbrush my body with admiration.
Let it be your only salutation

I am your
dark rose from the garden
all eyes are upon you.
tonight we shall share something beautiful
my pink satin sheet  that never generates such heat
At last!
Our bodies unfold into a night of ****** fantasies
making love to you is going to be so easy.
Could Morning bring a new beginning?
~
Move slowly upon my request and trace my curve
tonight I am your mistress, your wife,
and most of all
your Goddess amongst the mist
Harden the steel of your love for me
Where are you tonight Irish eyes?
Where are you?
'
Dondaycee Aug 2017
Questions… if I don’t ask them they’ll get the best of me,
If I ask them at the wrong time, I’ll lose the answers,
Time itself will fail to digest in me.
Einstein said if such a thing existed it would be simultaneously,
So why did the past constipate me? Right now things are hard to swallow,
Because what I see is ahead, and, this **** is cutting me off from the rest of me.
“The important thing is not to stop questioning, curiosity has its own reason for existing.”
****** Albert, if this is food for thought, what’s the recipe?
And don’t say imagina… wait, if imagination is everything, then I’ll use it to remove the crap from yestereve.
Why did Arkyi have meaning? I mean, it’s palindrome did.
Maybe Iykra had an acronym for a reason.
I looked for the publisher but there was no trace or date, who ever did this wanted to remain hid.
I know it has some type of meaning,
Numerology says one, Astrology says Sun,
Horoscope says Attractive personality with a magnetic charm,
Why is Symbolism for rarity repeating?
Unity of one; structure of pride, purpose, and determination,
This raps into a kingdom in Israel and the culture of Hebrew,
That’s odd but I see the cohesion.
Odd because it goes back to a man named Abraham, the one that left Mesopotamia.
Crazy because Mesopotamia was linked with Atlantis, a global civilizations that fell after its main island suffered a sinking.
Now this is just my imagination guiding me, I’m not stating anything.
But, imagination is the tool to create, and I’m creating a line that’s linked in...
-Well at least that’s what I’m thinking,
Understand that I’ve reached a level of decoding messages many can’t comprehend,
It’s not me but it’s me, haha I’ll let that sink in.
Back to Abraham, Abraham means the father of many,
He died at one hundred and seventy-five years old.
Now get this, Noah died at nine hundred and fifty,
According to my research, reaching almost a thousand years of living was more than possible during the times of Atlantis, now that’s old.
Wait, before you give up on me, hear me out, I’m just looking for answers,
If it makes you feel better, assume that I’m thinking out loud with a different perspective that was never told.
Now I’m warning you these next few lines are gonna either make you question some things,
Or view me as a crazy man expressing opinions that are bold.
We’ve (meaning humans) have been in contact with 3 different extra terrestrial species,
You don’t have to believe me, but
They’ve been here for at least two hundred and seventy million years,
Don’t ask me how I know, ask yourself, why is this information being controlled?
These are 3 groups that have been competing before earth, understand as below, so above and as above, so below.
One of these groups created the dinosaurs which was an eighty-five million year experiment,
They later allowed the meteor to hit the earth because it was time for a new project,
If you noticed the mammal species on earth flourished immediately after, this is something to know,
God is very much in the picture, if anything, this shows its true power and infinite structures of life.
This isn’t new, it’s been foretold.
Our bodies were celled, yes, humans are about forty thousand years of age and counting,
But our souls are directly from the source, God, and we are not the body but a soul,
Whom inhabits a body for a physical experience,
Call it a matrix, call it a game, call it a school, call it whatever you want but the reality is after physical existence, there’s another place we go.
Now this is what makes us special, why we have so much support and why earth is currently the center of attention,
Because after Atlantis fell, we were given only thirteen thousand years to be ready to shift into the fifth dimension.
It took Atlantis twenty plus thousands of years to reach such ascension,
Thus explaining abductions, one of the reasons is for comprehension,
They’re trying to understand how humans have the ability to ascend past their extension.
As I said before, darkness is a limit, hatred, envy, greed; these are doors blocking the light.
Boundaries blocking the acceptance of all is why many can’t see or experience the same visions.
I’m trying to provide knowledge to those with ignorance, so that we are all able to achieve our true potential,
This opportunity is monumental, don’t blow it by making cowardly decisions.
Let’s not forget to mention, many died for this,
Many lied for this, many put their goals aside for this.
Many hide from this, voices rise for this, so that all instead of few are able to revive and arrive in bliss.
If the sunrise is missed, I hope that the deprived survive the sunset and deny divide and apply divine inside for flight in sight of demise, a device structure to contrive a goodbye when the next opportunity scripts.
Is Arkyi the future me showing the past me Iykra so that I am able to connect the dots and unite all before the me now becomes apart of a myth?
Einstein said, “No problem can be solved by the same level of consciousness that created it.”
After researching, imagination activates the cognitive mind, an intuitive shift,
Asking myself questions, and using imagination presented me answers that demodulated ****.
Albert: “The only source of knowledge is experience.”
This is me using  knowledge to educate how to experience knowledge from  within for the times we get discombobulated and quit.
SELORM DEKU Dec 2016
Before your heart over comes your mind
And another's being captures your thoughts
When pictures are seen with love-lense,
Who earns your love deserves your respect
Know it!

When partiality grows and you accept she's best
A beast chooses another beast as best being,
The rigid part of you begins to know emotions
And you feel complete when she's near
Regard your standards before the final choice
Forget it Not!

She's my love not because she lacks flaws
She activates my best so for her I'd fall
With her, life's all day and never comes night
That moment when even you become a poet!
Still get time to reason or pray
Be not Misled!

I'm adamant though you paint her black
You don't have to understand my choice;
Thus you say and hold her dear
And you're armed to teeth against  unwanted counsel
In all, remember others have travelled that road
Listen To Wisdom!

— The End —