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ji Apr 2014
Let me stifled by your scent
And drown in your sweet bitterness;
I'll let my heavy lids lay flat
As you take away my spirit
To where you call tranquil and calm.

As my tired shoulders fall gently,
I am filled with your warm caress
Along with nostalgic portraits
Frame by frame running in my head -
Ever vivid and enthralling.

The consoling embrace you give
Alleviates grief and its pang
Even just for a little while.

As I savor your poignant sting,
I can hear my heart as it sings,
"Sorry, but I just can't grow wings."
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2019
.you can't persuade me... yes, i realiße that my language is riddled with overt-pronoun usage... dunn'oh... something in the air, i guess... yes... that's the german ß - an interchange of S and Z... which is not an Š... more piquant... akin to the distinction of an Ś... but not really... no... you can't tell me that you can read Braille... and play the guitar... no ******* chance in hell... less stiff little fingers (a decent band)... and more: numbed tip fingers... mid-of-the-road type of guys... blind lemon jefferson... you think... that... after playing so much guitar... he would be able to read the solipsistic / idiosyncratic invention of louis (b)? **** no! and not that blind lemon jefferson worked the ******* cotton-field either... but... fingers... numbing... playing the guitar... so... these's cucks managed to create a slave trade with these... hunk Zulu / n.b.a. warriors? alternative universe! alternative universe! no... you can't read braille while allowing yourself to play the guitar... so these feeble ancestors of not mine... managed to... enslave these... afro hulks?! the **** happened there? where some of the Europeans like me? oh, right, strapped to the Baltic... and non-existent for around 200 years... identify?! identify?! i was born 5 hours from Auschwitz! just because i learned English, doesn't imply i'm playing identity politics... but i guess, in England... only a Somali might... no chance in hell you'll play the guitar like blind lemon jefferson... and have the tender finger-tips of a louis braille... better start to learn to juggle oranges.

what would be the antithesis of
a... sodomite?
   someone from the city of *****?
a... gomorrahite?
****... that could work,
given we had people known
as the hittites...

CLICKBAITNEWSFLASH
CLICKBAITNEWSFLASH
CLICKBAITNEW­SFLASH
CLICKBAITNEWSFLASH
CLICKBAITNEWSFLASH

the new: small ***** emoji...
so...
           why is there a small
***** emoji...
with a dark complexion?

what?
           last time i heard...
and i did hear it from a *******
during... something
that resembled *******
but more Picasso figuring
out cubism...
      she told me...
           with not satisfying
impromptu...
   'all the black guys have
big *****'...
   yeah... i paid the 110 quid
per hour...
   but didn't say anything,
figuring,
stick to the proverb...
marshall...
  cicha woda brzegi rwie...
so i was basically looking
at either...
   the mariana trench
of a **** or...
           so like an amputee...
can i get, some sort
of girth expansion
or a length extension...
or should i just put on
a strap-on *****
to mechanically **** my way
out of a de profundis
                      like Jonah?
oyster yap-yap...
       i don't think my
"tool"... has anything to do
with...
   what i'm looking at...
something, something
from the kama sutra...
how... a rabbit man should
not **** an elephant woman...
nice metaphors
for... size... & depth...
so i turned on something
to relax from listening
to too much classical music
and having a wet-*****
over it in conversation
over lunch, und tea...
gets me all the time...
da pacem domine... templar...
sure... not my favorite
choir lullaby to hush myself
with... but as far as i know...
the hospitaller knights weren't
too keen on... curing
the ails of the heart through
song...
            
but the miniscule emoji...
like... the modern hieroglyphs writers
are attempting to
signal... having evolved
to speak... cratylian?
  (sign language)

they are!
   they are!
        look, they're communicating
with the orthodoxy
that makes dyslexia: stigma...

but... i have never heard
a ******* tell me that
all white men have... adequate...
******* examples...
but i have heard that all
black men have... the adequacy...
and a tall tongue,
a labyrinth and a serpent's
equal length of it...
to waggle through
conversation, till they reach... 60!

envy...
only if you're watching ****...
i even sometimes forget...
are those the *******...
or the ***?
  you know... the "grand canyon"
of fixation?
dunno... for me ****
is mildly, or at best...
one step away from
the Reinnasance nudes...
      depends...
i suppose if i was blind...
i'd be into the sounds of the grand O...
but static works best work me...
i guess: i like to imagine
what would be... working from
an instilled frame...

moses' worth of **** on
mt. sinai...
or jonah's de profundis
worth of **** in
a belly of a whale...
your pick...
       again... language is
not a ******* scimitar...
it's a...
                       yeah... that thing...
fun emoji, that one...
      cuck...
if you haven't been with
a *******...
what the hell is all this...
this...
                     in in between
she's telling you about
a friend of hers who was
slaughtered while
working Barcelona...
  and then she tells you
you're nice... because you
just feel like kissing...
   and it's like:
  me? me hitting the dating
scene in anglo-saxon culture?
psst... can i have that whiskey
and beer and solitary
confinement
with a claustrophobia's worth
of thought that, does require
someone... shuffling and dropping
snippets of my output into
the local square?

   i only felt compatible with one
woman in my life...
   if i were a bull
and she was a cow...
and i had overlords who needed
us to do nothing
but perpetually breed?
sure... it could have worked...

gomorrahite...
          that other emoji...
the blood drop...
i heard, somewhere, somehow,
only after the fact...
     i nagged her for ***
for well over 2 weeks...
she was on her period...
       i heard that *** during
a woman's period alleviates
cramps...
or... how does this even fit
into...
   warm water, in the bath,
****** on...
                chirping *******
sparrows...
   a few days later
   7 hours non-stop...
   the Trojans had landed...
so yeah...
             little **** big mouth...
or... miniscule omni,
        big **** makes a mouth
the depth of... what?
          it's not like...
there's only one depth of
****... is there?
   contra... new meme...
like the o.k. sign...
         but all fingers holded...
with the index set
     on the thumb...
  expression? how deep?
    
but the modern hieroglyphs
are evolving into cratylian...
    yet i still don't know how i'm
to read emoji...
via sign-language...
   and have a light-bulb moment
of the subsequent: ah!

    maybe...
   being made literate
i am to unmake my literacy
and learn to emoji...
   i know that there are
interpreters of these... "things"...
like: i'm giving the explanation...
but then...
   have no sparring partner
to use it with...

     so i figured...
              better before i go blind...
then at least i can write some
⠃⠗⠁⠊ ⠇⠇⠑...

so yeah...
how's that chopping off the diacritical
hydra coming along...
with regards to the pointlessness
that's hovering over
                    i (ι)      and j (ȷ) -
well... at least the caron over
an s (š) indicates something...
   i.e.:                         šarp...
      sharp!...
                       the **** are either of
those dots supposed to represent...
some... syllable, breath,
intra-word
   "pause"... ' - apostrophe scalpel
                  incission for the tongue?
like... t'ango...
where you use the apostrophe
attached to the t'
    to almost swallow your tongue
before you burst out with -ango
   as if (to double of the metaphor)
            you did a geyser with your
mouth upon hearing a joke
    with, just prior, having a sip of
a fizzy drink?

modern hieroglyphs imitating
cratylian (sign language):
                  and all these letters in between...
good to know that
whatever literacy was left,
became entombed in:
to code...

                                which...
starts to resemble...
                something akin to...
the language police take on
remembering to recite dyslexia
               of f@%&!

> shift a little bit to the right
           < shift a little bit to the left...

yeah, that labyrinth's worth
of ego...
                         or egg'oh...
     depends on how much modern
graffiti you want...
stolen from a brick wall of
  #tag...
                          i suppose...
    enough of e.e.cummings will do...
to push you over
the edge...
     and forget to even use
that ingeious israeli invention,
the u.z.i.,
                      tongue in the bucket,
and all those itchy tips
of fingers, readied to do
the devil's bidding...
       while the holy... the holy...
sing! sing! sing!
           grind lips
against a pig's snout...
      and stand stark naked...
uninhibited...
                         or at least...
that's how i see language,
                      or what is truly
my own... my use of it.
The gold that flows, through our elaborate veins,
The crop that is known, by many names,
The gift that alleviates, our daytime pains,
The commodity that plays, one too many games.

Our world is nothing, but a bottomless mine,
Simply waiting, for the wrath and plunder of humankind,  
Oh labourers please, wait your spot in line,
For it was not you that made, this incredible find.

You’re a fool to think, the system needs a redesign,
For your fate and this chain, are forever intertwined.
Stay in your corner, as they wine and dine,
For it is you not them, contained by this chain’s bind.  

Posing as a gift, that elevates their daily grind,
The brown gold is no longer, part of your bloodline,
It was their chains after all, that made this incredible find,
For it now flows away, from the Plateau’s skyline.
  
You continue to hope, for these chains to be redefined,
But to imagine you even exist to them, is asinine,
Yet you believe a consumer movement, would be so inclined,
For you forget that chains were made, to always confine.
This is a poem dedicated to the hard working smallholder coffee farmers around the world. This poem is intended to speak to their struggle, the inequalities of coffee value/supply chains the world over, and the unfortunate reality that these farmers face. This poem can certainly apply to many smallholder farmers and other labourers (landless or not) who suffer similar fates. Note that coffee in some circles is referred to as brown gold because of its economic value.
Luis Mdáhuar Sep 2014
My manner of thinking, so you say, cannot be approved.
Do you suppose I care? A poor fool indeed is he who adopts a manner of thinking for others! My manner of thinking stems straight from my considered reflections: it holds with my existence, with the way I am made. It is not in my power to alter it; and were it, I’d not do so. These manners of thinking you find fault with is my sole consolation in life; it alleviates all my sufferings in prison, it composes all my pleasures in the world outside; it is dearer to me than life itself. Not my manner of thinking but the manner of thinking of others has been the source of my unhappiness. The reasoning man who scorns the prejudices of simpletons necessarily becomes the enemy of simpletons; he must expect as much, and laugh at the inevitable. A traveler journeys along a fine road. It has been strewn with traps. He falls into one. Do you say it is the traveler's fault, or that of the scoundrel who lays the trap? If then, as you tell me are willing to restore my liberty if I am willing to pay for it by the sacrifice of my principles or my tastes, we may bid one another an eternal adieu, for rather than part with those, I would sacrifice a thousand lives and a thousand liberties, if I had them. These principals and these tastes, I am their fanatic adherent; and fanaticism in me is the product of persecutions I have endured from my tyrants. The longer they continue their vexations, the deeper they root my principles in my heart, and I openly declare that no one need talk to me of liberty if it is offered to me only in return for their destruction.
Anthony Garcia Mar 2014
Everyone has a dark side
But there's no shadow without light
With you, the shadows of my heart subside
I wish to once more hold you tight
To again witness the beauty of your eyes
Eyes I could lose myself in, if time allowed
Eyes so blue, they rival the open skies
When I catch your gaze I'm instantly wowed
When I'm with you, pure ecstasy surges through my veins
Unsure if I'm dead or alive, in heaven or just dreaming
For the tenderness of your touch alleviates my pains
Your touch that tickles so much I feel like screaming!
At last, when it's time to part our ways
I hold your hand for as long as possible
Because the euphoria will soon die and leave me in a haze
If only I could defeat time, the unbeatable obstacle
So that our joy will never have to cease
However, all good things must come to an end
I know I can't stay, I need to release
And pray for a chance that I might see you again
Although
alliteration
alleviates
all
affects
attributed to
anticipation,
it will still spill
faster from the quill
than assonance.
Just for funzies.
AntoinetteBrandt Feb 2013
I was outside shoveling horse **** considering the more **** I piled up, the less you'd deal with when you came home.
2.  I woke up every night at 2, unfamiliar to having the bed all to myself, curled around a pillow like a buoy far from shore, sea sick in the choppy water, my vision reduced to abstract smudges. I focused on what must have been your silhouette as I gulped cups of salty water half a mile into the ocean, exhausted and drowning.
3. Medicinal marijuana alleviates  anxiety. I won't swear on depression, I believe, there are four types of depression. Blue dreams are most desirable, every day for 8 months.
4. You've probably seen this desktop orb that captures electrical currents, so when you touch it with your fingers violet bolts ignite against your glass fingerprint. With this light, 2 a.m. I scoop the sandman's hash into my pipe so i can get some rest from my past who caught up to me a few days ago.
5. Dreamer. Heartbreaker. Deep thinker. No harm has come -- to--- you.
6. When it gets dark again, run baby run. Spin around with my eyes on his, reveal the wreck behind my lids, at the thought of losing him, not to another woman, but to Fate. Hold him tight. Make love like you mean it, not to ****, but to tie two hearts together as they bleed. It's bloodstains on the white sheets, two people loved here like death sat by the dinner table, waiting on his appetizer.  
7. The cruel morning illuminates his naked body as he slept. I cried because I didn't know if dreamed of pleasing me. Why did I let things I couldn't control worry me?
p Nov 2013
soporific and potent
it travels through the tunnels with crimson walls
inverse photos
and superflous words sewn together like grandmothers quilt
salt water drops and the wallet is empty
verbose phone conversations
and then
the brown door opens
and it alleviates
faint eyes peer at each other
and the air mixes together like sugar and flour
and it alleviates.
These tears on my ****** skin,
Tears from your ****** sins,
Tears from the words that won’t leave my mind.
Tears from what lies behind.

Deep cuts from within,
Deep cuts on my skin,
Deep cuts down my wrist.
Life is so brisk,
I like the risk.

They say, 'Sticks and stones may break my bones,'
But they're the ones who always had homes.
'Words will never hurt me,'
So why won’t those words stop replaying in my head and let me be?

Deep cuts on my thighs,
Deep cuts from your lies,
Cuts from what I've realized:
People are evil in my eyes.

Your words tore my heart, and I my skin.
It’s the only thing that alleviates the pain.
I felt it cut into my soul.
I reflect what you have said—your sins on my skin.
Kunal Kar Dec 2015
The morning cigarette,
With a cup of igneous coffee,
On an early winter morning,
Alleviates the morning high,
Like the smoke from molten lava.

The immature ride to the vacant highway,
The zephyr gust from the near mountains,
Touches the juvenile jacket
And through the quietus of nature,
The wings inside sails away.

The green undertone of cannabis,
It's a rational sensation,
With every roll the paper silhouettes,
Like a shotgun of peace,
The buds displace on the white face.

The rejuvenating smoke calibrates,
Through the dry pipes,
And layers the ravenous soul,
Like a honey bee,
Pouring the golden sugar,
Into the barren depth of an empty bowl.

Like a centaur with tenacious wings,
Accelerating with the air,
Feeling every loop of a fresh wound,
Riding from north,
And taking the fear out,
Like a first raindrop to hit the ground.
Andrew Rueter Mar 2018
We are the people we are
Far from the people we should be
Humor makes up the difference
In every uncomfortable instance
Humor I must know
To soften the blow
And make life enjoyable
Humor is always employable

Negativity carelessly creeps
From somewhere deep
I feel tragedy
Grabbing me
I must rhetorically escape
These problems will deflate
Once I receive a joke
After taking a ****
With familiar folks

We're all somewhat stand-up comedians
In front of our friends
The pros have no way of seeing them
So specificity we lend
It can be trite and true
Or bright and new
Curing the blues
To help get you through

To keep from constantly imagining
The endless amount of tragedy
I must have a sense of humor
To ignore the hectic rumors
Or the life ending tumors
Or the treacherous suitors
My only tools are words
And all my words are tools
Turning sages into fools
If they want to bring me down
My words can steal their crown

The albatross around my naked neck
Is my greatest source of comedy
Adding perspective to a stacked deck
Turning drama into Dramamine
Putting on a mask like Halloween
When the darkness follows me
Humor keeps me from wallowing
In my own self pity
I'd rather feel giddy

I hate myself so much sometimes
Humor can help remove that grime
Not getting rid of it completely
But not letting it cut so deeply
It's the only thing that can treat me
When life decides to beat me
I respond by feasting
On pain
And ******* out harmless humor
Which drains
The sensation of being a loser

That feeling you get when your friends laugh
That feeling you get when your friends clap
Like violent gunshots in the distance
Humor alleviates the agony of existence
Megan Jan 2013
I walked into Walgreen’s that night
              absorbed in my own little world.

Soon after entering,
I made my way to the line.
My eyes
             d       a      n  c  e d        

to the crescent-moon shaped scar
    adorning the young clerk’s neck.

With the gentleman in front of me,
he spoke of
camouflage and machine guns.
                                                                            Earlier times when he
                                                                               could only see his
                                                                                  family through
                                                                                     the lens of
                                                                                            a
                                                                                      webcam.
When  he first learned what it took
                                       to be a man.

And when he learned what true loss
really felt like.

It’s my turn.
I step     f      o   r w ard
and stare directly into his eyes
and wonder

how he ended up here.


His face doesn’t give away much,
he’s painted on a cordial smile
and the air between us seeps
with the remnants
of small talk.

But I can’t help wondering.
I wonder, if he knows

he’s more than he’s been told.
       more than he’s settled for.
       more than the orders he was commanded to obey.
       more than the lines he was expected to cross.
       more than the monster he had to become.
                                                                                   To survive.

I can’t help but wonder

how he’s ended up here.

Overseas— he’s ranked
but now that he’s home
on friendly soil,                                    he’s thrown into department store
                                                                 positions and temporary jobs.
I can only hope he’s better off than some of his friends

tossed into
psychiatrists offices.

But I wonder,
I wonder what memories might decide to plague his dreams.
While he tries to figure out
which pill alleviates which painful recollection.
Which part of his past will come back to haunt him today
and which of his friends lives will flash before his eyes while he tries to sleep.

Norepinephrine firing through his brain
                                 like the gunshots he had to deliver.

The U.S government is so quick to draft,

but hasn’t learned how to welcome home.

They hide their veterans in the dark corners of psych wards,

allow them to get lost in the depths of their own minds,

while the PTSD
                                   eats away whatever is left.

These men fight for countries who don’t know what to do with them afterwards.
What they both need to learn:

There is life after war.
JJ Hutton May 2010
collapse into the bed.

i love the hours we ****,
the hours when our feet
forget the floor.

close your eyes.
pleasure centers and crazer neurons.
old soul music and moans.
****** asian neighbors and some televised war.

every sorrow dissipates,
every worry alleviates,
and every thought is silenced
by white knuckles grappling with skin.
Copyright 2010 by Josh Hutton
Emerald Proctor Dec 2012
I cannot reside in selflessness, nor can I reside in senselessness.
My pride alleviates both.
Dreams do not exist from my stand-point,
although I dream of escaping this place every day.
If only there were another way to build up a smiling facade.
Something I could conform to,
a small tent.
I sincerely do wish I could let somebody else take the blame.
I would watch in ignorant fascination as an anonymous culprit was raked and exploited.
People would yell,
"This is all your fault,"
As the accused one shrouded and shook,
"You couldn't save us!"
While I would watch in discreet glorification of it all;
Glorified with the fact I was no longer being burned at the stake.
Does this render me cruel?
Yes.
Aren't all children, though?
Sean Pope Jul 2012
Dear,
During our distressful dispersal,
Due to dismal dismissal on my defense,
Your dreary demeanour is decidedly
Distressful.

Earnestly,
I evince my emotions, expressing every
Effort to ebulliate my everything,
But ephemeral expulsion excommunicates me
Exceptionally.

Apathetic,
You arrive, always akin to antipathy,
Although any alacrity you attempt
Assiduously alleviates my alerting
Affliction.

Reconsider
This rejection, revile in my respect,
Rescinding no recompense for this respelendance.
Rejuvenate while I receive the rigour and
Reward,
Dear
Glenn McCrary Aug 2011
In the incandescence of this empyrean nocturnal rhapsody

A remarkably rare yet, aureate creature appeared before me

From nightfall until daybreak she smoothly crooned an infinite array

Of enamorous symphonies to which I naturally could not abstain



A subtle spark of ardency was cast upon my sauntering pneuma

Inundating me into a catalepsy of which I zestfully fancied

Her charisma suckered me in with ease, illuminating my euphoria

Masquerading my pervasive mourning, cauterizing it to ashes



Each lyric alleviates the suffering that I have so hazardously acquired

Every note speaks to me in a language unknown to the community

The tasteful euphonies that perspire, carefully assuage my heart

I raised not a finger nor did I enunciate a single word or syllable



Her musical prowess completely squandered me with passion

Jauntily I danced to the cadence of the beat scouring my veins

Ceaselessly I could bathe in the essence of her bubbling sound waves

Never shall this finely crafted music pause, It shall remain on replay
Wally Smith Jan 2010
This page frightens me
with its whiteness-
pale and interesting,
when words wind their way across it.
If ******* is written
backspace is the face of the future -
paradoxically speaking.
A rhyme is a sign
that on the next line
the metre should not peter
out.
Alliteration alleviates this
and block capitals
just simply SHOUT.
J Jul 2017
Hope alleviates;
Expectation desolates;
Choose wisely, my friend.
One must know the difference.
Nathan Squiers Dec 2014
Twas under the brightest silver moon,
That I witnessed true perfection bloom--
Her hair like silken petals; her figure strong and proud--
And all this beauty blossomed five full months from June.

Just as frail as flowers, though, her splendor was painfully brief,
And, though many said I must move on, I could not contain my grief.
I could not bring myself to so easily sway!
I just did not have it in me to turn over a new leaf.

My mind's been a flutter with floating blossoms of her face.
A cloud of radiant spores I'm forever forced to chase.
This wasn't just a fish occupying a vast sea;
There were no other flowers that could occupy my shattered heart-vase.

And now her name's like perfume foreign to all other noses,
I've found a simple remedy that alleviates my pain.
But, as the garden of my heart festers and decomposes,
I feel a little better every time I burn the roses.
amber cash Nov 2012
I want a love that is constant.
A love that is forgiving,
A love that is never forgotten.
A love that is simple.
A love, where I am not ashamed, or blamed.
A love that is unwavering,
A love that is never second best.
A love that is faithful.
All deserving of my love,
All deserving of my heart.
A love that alleviates pain and not to blame,
I want a love that is not ours.
D.T. Lethe Jun 2010
I remember,
can it be a youths mind,
actions running, precociously
stunning,
fueling imagination atop
deep fields (gas stained dust).
Fires fickle fingers reaching
deep, scorching etches
and traces of friendship
through days made,
deep velveteen May.

I remember alabaster,
skin, flesh, the
two of us attuned to rivulets
running drawn sketches,
yours and mine, scratches
and gashes untended,
equality in torrential forest halls.  More
important days await,
our attentions intentionally
wasted, swimming moments,
mile deep lakes.

I remember,
memories of
laughs behind bushes, honey
suckle kisses on our
tongues, rain splashing
faces as we
run from the others; we were
the best, shadows
never caught,
never found,
always searching another’s
thoughts.  I remember
your purity.

Nervous energy,
I remember lofty concerns,
ideals on top of
the world, branches
holding dreams...
dreams on twigs,
weighty ghosts waltzing
in the wind, worlds laid bare
for our eyes only,
golden thoughts, suicidal laughs
streak across our eyes, terrified
under beats bolstering skin, pine
resin sticking sixty
feet in the air.

Ah! the glory, days
remembered, softly slick
bubbles, foam
soap drenched fingers
wrinkled screams as hot oil
fly’s by, blinded ice erupting
mushroom clouds,
imminent danger behind
inappropriate motions,
fingers grazing
skin and we’re all laughing
everyone.

Stories told,
unmasked lives spoken
on concrete, curbs cry
with open passion as
raspberry flows free,
chocolate dreams milking
tongues, sugared
pastries delight in
nights gone by, the blink
of an eye, four a.m.
lullabies on top
of the Hill.

Can we forget?
spaces taken,
speeding drives along
empty Inter-states, dates
to remember music and
malls and movies, money
spent, red-blue lights
falsely imprison our
spectacular
imaginations, yet
they only stop to
smile and laugh, ‘get
home safe’ is the standard
we live by.

Oh yes,
how I remember our
love, our friendship
sailing through immortal
days.  How
I remember us, gravel roads
spitting dust behind
tires dancing rocks
beneath our high, soaring
minds singing
brazenly, sunrise
just around the bend and
I find it terribly hard to
look upon this
beauty and not cry.

Seemingly too much,
impossible events occur
when two impossible souls
find a way (the word
is twine), and though it’s
been a time apart, years
since regular
explosions of fire have
kindled in our eyes, together,
I still remember, I
still yearn for a thing
that feels so
freshly young.  Can
you yourself
still remember?

Gods laugh,
I cough out
unsuitable words,
descriptions of a past
that possibly existed,
waking dreams,
early morning gold slivers
between the contrast,
alleviates the pain
of separation,
connected by a love
I’ve never lost.  Do
you remember those green
days, those glorious
triumphs of the
human body,
mind, and
soul?  Do you
remember...

my Love,
my friend,
tears fall unbidden,
joy; keep it coming.
Sabrina DLT Nov 2013
I have this whole world that I want to share.
It doesn't sound like a lullaby but
Sometimes it feels like one.
Sometimes the sun sets at the perfect time and
Dawn begins to look like a rusty image of color.
It begins to set in and dissolve.
It pix-elates and creates an overdose that
Flat-lines and shapes the figures that come my way.  
You make me shift with every move you make.
There is something about the darkness that alleviates.
Something in the way you talk that makes my breath palpitate.

There is something in the air
And its setting across our universal states.
Dust seeps down on the miles that we found
Between us, I cant settle down now that it is dawn.
I want the drunken and drugged Queen's crown.
I want everything that is wrong,
Everyone that is alone singing this lullaby song,
I want every black tear that tears from that witch's heart.
I want a dry dreary summer to settle into and forget
Every bad dream, sad song, primal love, and every instinctual cheap bet.
8th November, 2013
Hannah Lois Jan 2012
She slips into the trees
He trails after her
A shadow
As silent as the mist that saturates the morning
Her corn silk hair billows in the impish breeze
He snatches an airborne strand that has broken free
And swallows it
She seems to dance through the forest
Taking slow swaying steps
Hips swinging
Hands fluttering
Across every bush
And every tree
They are precious to her
He touches each in turn
They become precious to him
She stops beneath the dogwood tree
His heart lurches as she faces him
White petals float around her
Kissing her cheeks
Skimming across her clavicle
To pile at her feet
He watches her intently
As he takes calculated steps towards her
She seems only intrigued
When he stops but an inch from her
She ***** her head
She does not understand
The hunger in his eyes
The moisture on his lips
The heaviness of his breath
Or why she likes the molten fire
That has erupted in her stomach
He shakes as he reaches out
To touch this beguiling creature
No longer a shadow
And suddenly this frightens her
She backs against the tree
Its bark rough
Like his fingertips
He begins to cry
As he presses himself against her
And alleviates his ache
She begins to cry
As she kisses him
Again and again
She still does not understand
And mourns the loss
Of make-believe and pretend
It is the long, hot summer nights like these
that leave me transfixed,
So hot, it feels as if my skin is glowing, as if
I could simply
burn up,
wasted by fire from
a deep within.

The water, cold tap, does little
but the
little
it
alleviates
is enough.

How can it be that I am so feverish?
Am I delicate?!
made of paper?!
to be consumed?!

I have always
been a warm sleeper,
my body raising the temperature
of a room,
and even
unconscious
I take care to kick away my covers
to get them away
that would so dare to cause my discomfort.

Yet this heat serves a purpose,
as, inflamed,
my brain quiets all distractions
and I am gifted
a blind,
deaf, intense
focus.

Often it keeps me up,
during the hot
dry
desert summer.

Nearly always, this
eerie focus
is aimed wistfully, agonizingly
on cooling down, on twisting, on cold and lovely thoughts.
Icy, unattainable dreams
billow like plasma
through my mind

But they
Are
Only
Dreams,
and it is a kind of torture.

And I loathe to think of it,
but when the nights
grow chill
and I grow
Still,
will not I be
glad of this heat?
Colleen Cavanagh Apr 2014
My eyes open to darkness
As I frantically reach for safety.
It was only a dream, I think,
When I finally grasp my duvet.
Tears glaze my tired eyes;
These nightmares are all too familiar.
My mind never rests.
My anxiety never alleviates.
Life's not been easy.
I've seen so much, experienced
Such grief, such tragedy.
I want to be comforted.
I want you to be here.
You know how to make me strong.
But I can't find you, even though
I keep reaching for you.
You're stealthy, you've slipped away.
I'm lost in my nightmares;
You've left me alone.
I just wanted the security of your presence.
I just wanted to hear your heartbeat.
To feel your chest move with every breath.
To listen to your deep voice soothe me.
To have your hand wipe my tears.
But I have to comfort myself,
For you will never be back.
And I will resort to being distrusting,
Closed off,
Emotionless,
So I don't have to feel this emptiness.
This loss of you that you promised I'd never feel.
My eyes close, another tear spilling down my cheek.
As I try to travel to the nightmares in my dreams,
To drown out the nightmare of my reality.
Eli Apr 2021
your every message is like *******,
and your voice is like a sweet narcotic,
speaking to you alleviates all pain,
and the first night without you i felt sick.
you told me you’d always be there for me,
said you loved me, something only your mom hears,
was it true at all, or were you just weak?
because you’ve been gone and it feels like years.
we trusted each other with everything,
i told you no matter what i’ll feel this way.
all you said was thank you, i felt nothing.
whether the past was a lie or not, why do i still stay?
sorry i’m posting so much tonight i just have a lot to say
Satsuki Jul 2014
My coffee is bitter
But my feelings towards you taste worse
And my coffee alleviates my headaches
You just cause them
Hurble B Burble Apr 2016
***
An auspicious Australian awaits a antique apperature. Alive and awestruck he answers an abnormal anomaly.  The apperature abscesses an automaton and away an albatross    alights to an aviary awakening an awesome antihero. The aura of amazing allegory alleviates any alarm. As the Australian is an abhorred analytical analogy.
muna Dec 2017
It stains like blood,
Your touch.
Like wine,
It stays,
Intoxicates,
Alleviates,
Exonerates.

It frees.

Envelope me.
Paint me with your colours,
Your fingers, tinted brushes.
Draw over my scars.
Embellish me.

The artist, a lover.
The lover, an artist.
Melinda Éva Aug 2015
What the road contains is a mystery to a stranger
Stranger than the expectations created to tame her
Her wild soul alleviates the need for direction
Direction to a predetermined final location
Location is not what she aims for along this journey
This journey is all she needs to ease her fury
Her fury about how sheltered this world's become
Become a place of routine and forgotten love
Love of the unknown and unpredictable
Unpredictable series of moments that make us able
Able to create a path of our own
Own the chance to explore the cracks in the stone
Jade Ivy Mar 2013
Everyone wants someone who knows their own heart
Knows their pain
And makes it dissipate
Someone who understands
Relates
Alleviates
But is that always enough?
Can someone truly know
The pain
One goes through?
Often times
Words are muttered
Of how one knows what you're feeling
Knows what you're thinking
What you're going through
And maybe it's all with good intention
Innocence
But innocence doesn't help ****
When it was stolen
Long ago
Under the nose of ignorance
And you were left alone
Long ago
It's what you know
It's what you've always known
And it's hard to form new habits
When the old ones
Rooted themselves
So long ago
Nebek Wormer Jan 2015
Investigative force
Observer with no remorse
Awaiting the path to unfold
The trial of natures course
Never more shall we fall into oblivious plans
Connection with the source alleviates the confusion and uncertainty the future provides

Delve deep within
The answers are ever present
The soul awaits the physical to surrender in its presence

Break the chain
Strive for new
Break the constraints
That holds the potential back
Back
Back
Into deevolution
Always looking outward for solutions
Into the delusion
Take a look within to be the answer


Burying woe
Cannot let go of the familiar essence;
Your prescience

Bleak minutes tick away
Color fade
Purposeful sedation
Somber face

Metamorphosis
Into cold state
Visions of the Gate
Destroyed by the course of fate
What uncertainties now await?

Jaded repression
Bound by the constraints
Carrying the worlds weight
What uncertainties now await?

Bleak expression
Brewing oppression

*******!
*******!

Deathly wallows ensue
Inward into the grotto
Echoing hallows

What
Andrew E Savage Jul 2011
My soul is restless, uncomforted.


My mind is troubled, agitated.


My body is weary, fatigued.


I am overwhelmed by reality, its stresses excruciating.


Yet, as I cringe at life, there you are.


Lying with me, in my arms.


My soul is invigorated, my mind calmed, my body revived.


Your very presence alleviates my troubles, bringing happiness to my heart.


You have transformed my life into something amazing.


Something...


...truly worth living.
awesome apothecary addressed as Agamemnon  
alleviates anxiety, and alimentary aggravation
anodyne appeasement arrests ailment
amphetamines acquaintanceship assuages
agonizing aches also advocates amorousness

assiduously activating admiration
aggressive attacks assault air afoul
affable affinity affects adumbration
anatomical accidental addiction attested as academic,

although afterward abnegation absolutely arduous,
affianced attired apparently as an anomaly
Ares and Abyssinian Astarte admixture
acquiescence affliction affected adroitly,

and abruptly abends accessible
altruistic alms axed
albeit admonishing, alluding,
and attributing authored

autonomous anonymous adroit arriviste agents
accompanying as accomplished accomplices
accredited ace advertisers
applaud ascendent assaults amidst agonizing appeals

acting all acrimoniously apropos
avowedly ardently, and antagonistically, agitating
appositely advocating ancillary assistance  
addict adrift afloat anchors away

assails along, among, and an alias archenemy -
adorned abominable assassin alters ambition
adroitly, aggressively, absolutely
addict announces asseveration

against avid admonishment
alarmingly annulling authentic affiliation
anew anonymous ability acclaims alignment
aegis actually adversarial abetting attrition appetite

acceleration ascendent after aplenty anesthetization
additionally activating arced analogous arrow
advancing added abdominal and arterial agony
abject ambivalence arrests accomplishments attainable

any artistic avocation absconded
asper auditorial approbation, animadversion
artificial aggrandizement abrogates astuteness
appropriate adjudication affronted

alternative afforded amnesty about acing audioslave
as aerosmith ambition assumes arriviste affectation
already appalling alacrity awakens amendment
although Awol administration adamant

acrimonious affront agonizingly attributable
announces another afterworld
apparent ailing apparition
ardent allegiance asking anyone appreciable affix
apathy abounds attending apriorism allotment.

— The End —