Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
vircapio gale Oct 2012
Haiku:

hiking new forests
mountain homes of moss and dew
more roots deepen


berries ripe
dot taiga heath--
alien planet


yellow blazing sun
'packin'rocks'
from maine to georgia


pain born hero
in oven boots of blood and pus--
summit breeze


barefoot hiker
calls herself 'FearNot'--
toes enjoy same mud


snake rises up
fangs gleam at water lair
cold spring quenches all


***** at each view--
water comes in and goes out
like a filter


at waterfalls, swans
alighting air-- noble poise
on the way to sea


gunas intertwine
my sweet mountain hunger paths
bitter taste of bark


sour grass
garnish of an earthen tract
saliva honeyed


strands of spider flight --
i too catch myself making
web after web


"nature loves to hide"
hidden hermit roars of all
strife and fire flux


spider bite at dusk
afterswing of scenting food
shoo the meal away


change becomes the same--
people streams talking pixels
aging static web

symbols set in light
speed of optic living nodes;
clicking finger fibers


websites spin and stick
plastic tropical alphabets
ant waves clean the keys


fueling in process,
living fossils already
drilling seas--on earth


give or take six months,
happy birthday!
two seasons gone


Haibun:*

A mountain poet has come to the city, blisters pushing up his toenails. His smile spans 15 blocks of concrete and rebar. Strangers coo to see his sunshine gait but cough at his aroma. Hospitality is found after all, in parks and in the drunken streams from clubs gregarious for midnight novelties.

poet's apology--
not exactly 'myself' to
license gratitude
when time gifts symbols distance--
terror war towers still fall

Emergencies of all sorts force their way into my mind, as I live, sometimes as I write. Ambiguities serve as fulcrum nooks for meanings incompossible to hide, not being ready to share what can't be shared, obscurity offers the ineffable reprieve to be spoken nonetheless.

peering in the word--
sound signs meta symbol
witty sea of *****

property stings
abstract fights to earth
mixing labor

i found a haiku
on my coworker's desk--
where is the frog pond?

dad drinks alone--
photo recalls sunlit leaf
and beer can stare

opining fire false
freezing hearts with argument--
cold spring, winters warm

It is with the love of a child that I write, wincing harder into that self-given 'Indian-Burn' of cathartic fetish and psychological indulge. Where is maturity, and what use is it when faced with endless ground-zeros? Still open to answers, still unwilling to speak plainly or straight about the blanket crookedness and blissful meander that colors life most vividly. I imagine dacrygelosis understood.

thawing pond
creaks in headstand calm--
autumn air released

night's insight pierce
heralds migraine's ease--
gong of moon or sun

on dead wood, against
live trees, hours of *** by
mycelia blooms--
fragrant rot and sweat collide
skin spotted with forest sun

love signs everywhere--
two trunks spiraled
in a yellow wood

vocal awe resung
this is love! this is love!
deep summer fruit

rub of bark                      
vast forest sways across skin
                        naked expanse
Alfred Vassallo Apr 2013
Where goes the time when it flies?
Simplified by expression, and stained by clarity.
Smudge by lucidity
smeared by simplicity
tainted by intelligibility.
Tempus fugit as in time flies.
Sharply distressing with painful feelings
to the point of mental instability
morning or night
we become possessed with its mystic dealings.

Where goes the time when it runs?
Not a solitary explanation is found.
It happens and it won’t stop
until life terminates as well
without cause.
Derived of rationalisation
lacking understanding
short of justification
bursting with vindication
persistently and with conviction.

Where goes the time when it sails?
From the second that we’re born.
Where were we existing?
We cannot be so sure
Cannot recollect the past
Not for the first five of our years
Memory so blur, so shadowy
Hazy with distortions
obscure and confusing
Unit our mind starts slowly to recollect.

Where goes the time when it escapes?
The chronology of life so mysterious.
Nothing can solve its ambiguity
for time is a complex case
with an infinity of secrets.
What’s the obsession when we have so many setbacks
drawbacks and obstacles
obstructions and conundrums
to take care of before time perishes away
and leaves us stranded in oblivion.

Oh time, you magnificent of all mysteries,
the high and mighty of ambiguities.
Show us mercy and explain
we are not detectives of secrecies
your spell with us reflects on the whodunits.
Oh time of things past and yet to come
give us a clue as to what is to derive!
“Remember”
it softly replies “Make most of your lives”
“Once I fly away no one can have a replay”.
An entrenchment of truths

That hold forth a funeral table

For gracious hospitality

Of gentle nostalgia

In indulgence of murderous affection

Which manifest adequate

Yet uncomprehending grieving

Ambiguities of advocacy

In their extreams of moralizing warnings

In fleeting appearances who tell bold lies

In the mosaics of enclosed palaces

Presenting bouquet upon bouquet

Of black flowers on this weighted table

Truths that have been deprived of their vein stone

Truths owned to identity of embodiment

Surreal and interchangeable

That resonate in timely dissorder

Like the noise of migrating birds

Flying to the edge of the world
I have a dream! I have a dream,
To the racial discriminators, said Martin Luther King,
I have a dream! I have a dream!
To the evil-creating economists, I warn and ring.

Globe witness hunger, inequality poverty and unemployment
The world turns out to be bitter,
To all of you, I write this letter.
To create a world relieved from these and turn better.

I am a mad aspiring economist, a fool,
Searching for the right tool,
You turned the world with full of mess,
People are left with nothing less.

To the world, you gave theories,
Pushed us into a vicious cycle of injuries,
About your theories, you boasted,
It has created a few ruling and bloated.
Most of you worked as economic hitmen,
Turned victim laymen to fighting gunmen.

To the realities, your theory is distant,
Served no solution to the dying peasants,
To the few, we remain a psychological slave and servants,
Tuned our lives to a depended migrant.

With your development lecture,
You have killed the entire nature,
In the name of ventures, corporates turned vulture,
Hunted and looted our generations’ future.

We lived a self-reliant community,
You killed us with imposed liability,
Our lives are now placed in intensive casualty,
The word that remains imagination still is equality.



We lost our humanity and identity,
In your eyes, we are just a market and commodity,
Your play with scarcity, was a mere futility,
We finally became a society, filled with atrocity.

Your useless lectures of development,
Put us under frightening & irrecoverable unemployment,
For a few, you got us into a deep-rooted enslavement,
So, now for you instead, we make a replacement.

To my questions, you neglected and ran,
In your eyes, I am foolish stupid common man,
To you short-sighted range,
I say I will bring in a change!

Today, I may remain lower and mere viewer,
A day will come, where you will stand to answer,
Writing a new rule, I would seize your beloved positions,
This will be my lifetime mission and ambition.

I say with all my limited experience,
I will put a test to all your conscience,
Are you just a fat-big corporate’s hand?
With people will you always stand?

I am not an economist,
I am neither an egotist,
I proclaim! I proclaim!
I am a revolutionary economist,

I know you will fit me a label,
I am sure I will be an economic rebel,
A rebellious economist.

I dream a world without huge inequalities,
I dream a world free from imposed liabilities,
I dream a world without poverty and disparities,
I finally dream for becoming an economist with no ambiguities.
The whole world is staring at new difficulties. It is still riddled with poverty, inequality, unemployment and illiteracy. The economists who dictated these rulebooks are the main culprits behind these. I am an aspiring economist. The economists mostly don’t stand with people’s welfare. Mostly they are ambiguous. They know only theories. They work as economic hitmen for many corporates. They are just a bookworm. Without understanding the pain and situation, they put forward new theories. Their theories sometimes serve good for the western world. One food or one dress or even one house cannot suit every person in the world. I have written this poem to the economists. It is better that all economist stay with people and find a solution that is most suitable for their enhancement. Else, people would reject their presence. In short, I say economist should be from the people, for the people, by the people, of the people.
sobroquet Apr 2013
So you think you are a master of techniques of persuasion?
You shallow pips-squeak, mediocrity is your mastery
the obsequious hoi polloi that surround you are the pitiable averageness of conciliation
Sophistry and subterfuge are your game of compromised facts
syllogistic  arithmetic conceptualizing  doesn't make anything so
your addition is flawed by your bungled bombast of banality and guile
fortunately for you, your crowd will never study logic
fortunately for you semi-literacy is  de rigueur

You pompous swollen grandiose mass of hyperbolic gas
Fear is what you offer, lies are what you sell
your rhetorical flourish is as the stench of a waste  dump
fetid, corpulent, fallow and febrile
toxic
half-truths, innuendos, ambiguities, conjecture and asinine aspersions comprise your specious fare,
fostering rumours,  manipulating facts, you are the purported Biblical brood of vipers so extensively reviled against
Your relevancy is attributable to the dull stupidity so profusely prevalent today
Your "success" is the stuff of taint and treachery
You'll probably choke to death on a stuck piece of poorly masticated  flesh
so appropriate  and  befitting the demise of a professional liar
Andrei Apr 2010
There is a Cheshire cat with a nefarious nose ring
Who lashes berating riddles, and vernacular that’ll make you cringe
He slithers through abandoned shadows
On dilapidated gravel, and bears a deathly sickle grin
Enticing as he may be, he only wishes to deceive
So be wary of his beguiles, they are hidden underneath his symmetrical smile
Nor give in to the plastic prophecies he preaches
Nothing he teaches will stitch meaning into your ambiguities
For he enslaves your sorrows and siphons your dreams
Leaving you asphyxiated in catatonic screams
Sarah Richardson Dec 2021
Don't allow yourself to close your eyes;
To sleep or rest, to look away.
You see, you know,
They all lied to you.

Existence;
Immersed in it's ambiguities.
Meaningless suffering,
Life is unjust.

Left behind.
Drowning in real
Refusing to ignore,
It's killing you.

It is all truly there,
It is all that there is.
Onerous to accept it.
You're creating a war with a reality
Who only seeks to destroy.

Nearly lost elation,  
Thoughts transmitted in times of joy,
Hope at times afforded.
Faint memories of it will linger,
Just try to hold on.

-

You think so highly of such a lowlife as yourself,
Or are you it?
Are you it?
Valeria Ariza Oct 2016
Darling Dragon Blue,
Your life is a circus
full of ambiguities leaving you stumped,
unable to discern good from bad, truth from lies,
enemies from allies.

The Ring Master,
Master Illusionist,
Master Magician,
call him what you may,
he knows this,
he feeds off of this.

your misplaced trust
gives him power.

He targets you,
his spinning whip sings I love you,
Striking down ******* your soul,
drawing blood from your heart,
Painting hate in your eyes.

He announces you as his greatest possession,
his greatest achievement,
the love of his life.

But now the show’s over.
he looms over you
using his two faced mask to scare you back in your place
feeding off your insecurities and self doubt,
he grows stronger.

“Dance my boy Dance!” he cackles
‘STRIKE’
“Sing my boy sing!”
‘CRACK!’
he lines his whip with false love
to numb your pain.

But only for a little bit.
Only for a few seconds.

Long enough for you to believe it doesn’t hurt.
Long enough for you to forget his dagger words.

A damaged young dragon,
you burn your sorrow into the glass
when you whisper I love you to the mirror.
“I love you” it reads back.
and you feel so empty.

You realize you’re tired of performing on strings.
you yearn to dance freely, to soar high into the unforgiving sky
you want to burn this place to the ground screaming
“I loved you!” Roaring your mighty roar releasing your fright,
Spreading your mighty wings created for magnificent flight,
your bound legs unable to carry you,
you fall to the ground.
cold, helpless, the flame within you
threatening to die out.

The ring master finds you.
a confused frightened smile creeps onto his face
“I love you” he sneers
as he kicks you back into your cage
wondering why, oh why you tried to escape.

again with false love,
he manipulates you, a creature
endowed with so many beautiful talents and gifts,
not realizing he conditions his “ I love you’s” with pain, anger, and hate.

and you a mighty dragon only wish to control your own fate.

And so Enough.
you roar.
Enough.
The fire inside you erupts into a great blue star
transforming the carbon in your ribs into your
diamond heart,
melting your golden bones allowing you to change form.

For Darling Dragon Blue,

It is HE. that should fear you.

Darling Dragon Blue.

**I LOVE YOU.
Plain Jane Glory Jun 2013
"Fight depression with chain smoking!" he says, half-joking
Fiddling with the lighter in his pocket
(He knows about her grandfather's lungs boxed up underground)

They will exchange the usual
Books, philosophical ambiguities and terrified uncertainties
Ideas of the unknown, which makes up more than the known

They will talk about how they would both rather die alone
Than surrounded by false pretense of love

Every night is an existential crisis, every other night one will feel strong
On the graveyard shift of saving the same life for the millionth time
TOD HOWARD HAWKS Aug 2020
You weren't sure when you knew it. You weren't sure where it came from. But sooner than later it enveloped you. It was your calling. No words, nothing written. Just a sense, a feeling that permeated your being. And finally you knew. No ambiguities, no uncertainties, no ambivalences. Just truth. It was intuition. No manuals, no table of contents. No advanced degrees required. It was your life, the rest of your life. It was the reason you were born. It was the reason you were on Earth. It was your destiny. There is nothing more to say except to follow it, your calling.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS
renea lee Jun 2016
maybe we were two lonely souls in an
infinite number of universes
that coexists at the same time
so in the least cases when other universes
cease to rotate;
we were looking at each other’s eye—
half consciously exchanging breaths as we stood
in a random street on a random time with random people
in Metro Manila.

maybe we were two lonely souls
devoid of life with its absurdities and ambiguities
that when other universes began to move—
adverse was ours.
we were motionless and breathless
and static and frantic
amongst the dismal place where we stood
under the rain and under the heat of the sun;
dear, did you feel the spontaneity of our souls
for the first time in a lifetime?


maybe we were two lonely souls
searching for our own universe in this
infinite number of universes that when
we finally had the chance to meet on
a road with nowhere to go while listening
to our timeless symphonies of pleasure, pain, and lost;
we found universe at each other’s soul.

maybe we were two lonely souls
before we met in Metro Manila.
maybe we were two lonely souls
when we were living in abyss.
maybe we were two lonely souls
before we found our infinite universe at each other.
maybe we were two lonely souls
before we knew love.

(06.19.16)
Arwen Mar 2013
Did you ever just sit and wonder,
how someone you barely know,
could impact your life so much,
in such a short amount of time?
How they could so quickly turn a
frown upside down?  
How they were able to relight
a fire that burnt out
some time ago?

What is so special about them,
that they were able to get past
the walls surrounding your heart,
as well as, being able to
totally invade your thoughts?
The biggest question is how you could
trust another person, as easily as,
you trusted them?
Trusted them, even after you swore to yourself
that you would never, ever, be able to trust another,
after all the hurt and disappointment.

I have, and I do know that,
from the moment I met you,
I could feel safe in sharing
my most intimate thoughts.
I could share with you
my dreams and aspirations.
I could share with you
my hopes and fears.
Most importantly, I could
allow you to walk around
in my head, and in my heart,

So, now that you are gone,
why do I cherish
memories of you, so much?
Why am I left feeling
that I am only a distant
thought in your mind?
What more can I do to prove to you
that I am not someone who just speaks,
but also proves, by my actions?

Do you realize that I think of you often,
without truly understanding why?
Asking myself constantly,
why can't I just have you?
But, I know that, deep down in my soul,
I do not truly want you
when you have such doubts.
I want you free of any
fears and ambiguities.

Maybe the real, and most important question,
of why we were destined to meet,
will never truly be answered.
But, I do know that, regardless if,
I ever receive any answers,
I will never regret
the brief time I spent with you,
in the making of these questions.


Vicki A. Zinn
2011
I S A A C Aug 2021
money, fame, glory
Childhood was so rough the only option was to come up with a story
Adulthood came early and taught me to be discerning
But in a world full of colour hues its easy to pick the shivering blue
Fell into a whirlpool, a black hole so dark my memory vanished
But these lessons I learned taught me to survive in famish
So I worked for the juxtaposition because I deserve lavish
So stunning and blessed I came to be
Never let that light die in me
I knew I would make it with the right opportunities
So I learned how to be hardworking and ambiguities
A humbling story and sometimes sad
But I am grateful and cherish moments I will always have
But I moved on, looking good, getting back
Everything they took from me I used to have
TOD HOWARD HAWKS Oct 2021
Is life a course
or a curse,
a path
or a pathology?
Is living a blessing
or a lessening,
a miracle
or a mirage?
Is it a kiss
or a miss,
a tender touch
or simply a come-on?
The opposite of love
is not hate,
but uncaring,
simply not feeling.
Are all illnesses
psychosomatic,
a disguised, silent way
that we take out
our unconscious anger
against ourselves?
Love both clarifies
and resolves these ambiguities,
seeking always the better
over the worse.
Life can mean love,
but too often
means meanness.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Rachel May 2016
i miss the late night conversations we shared / you climbing onto my bed whispering something about the dream you had / hands clammy / breath shaky / your voice filtering through my sleep deprived mind / you asked if i am still listening / and i hummed a lazy reply / you snaked your fingers between the spaces of mine / taking all the blanket while we talked through the night / when your eyes finally closed / i murmured sleep tight / unsure as to who dozed of first / we held each other's hand till the break of light

i remember braiding your hair / de-tangling the knots / weaving a pattern you're sure to unravel it as soon as i'm done / you displeased and me peeved / we didn't speak for a quarter of a week / but of all the times we fought and all the unplanned shenanigans / we are still each other's significant

and soon, time will go by / and we will grow old / my dear sister / how can i let you go to a world so cold? / it play well into my fears / becoming two separate entities / constructing memories from ambiguities / the hallmark of our sisterhood / shackled by our adulthood / though i'm not ready, i know it’s time for the new / for our arc has concluded, so the next chapter can take root / i wish you infinitely well / so let’s work together to become the greatest version of ourselves
Johnny Noiπ Nov 2018
In fact, in the evening, their stupidity and fat women,
military performances, zero, or me, in Mason-Chested
women, generously serve and order the Greens,
for the continuation of fame; The magic of light is the use
of grain boundaries, I want to stop the heat from the benefits
of the Jews in the Crystal Revolution, the Stripper gun,
the furnace and underwear. He and China Rally,
the fingerprint of the fingered daughter,
he said that after listening to the air, a large majority
of Australian mothers came warmly to life,
that's a good life, there are thin hairs in it,
many rulers, Johns, lovers. The quality of life
is usually made green by feeding the **** prayer tree,
you are going to talk about the negative river under the city.
Burke has played an important role.
This was the name of Torres customer service, "***** of ***".
Cup world and world First, the Greek language product
is English (North Korea). what about me?
Girls read what they want to learn, what is the heritage of women?
Women, young and old, Russia, CPA Germany |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| Valentines day ||| More youth games and cultural illusions,
Dark Rococo 2.2 (French call activity)
and two of Homer's  ammonium tanks. Firstly,
for the corporate body in the history of every map
of the Middle East and the staff of Sara Walker,
first English and Greek (right) children know
the same lines for years, women, youth, the elderly,
women and HKKK. ||| And among other members
of Valentine's Day After the police death in the garden,
especially in the case of ambiguities and dark days,
young women told me, Barkola Sarah 2.2
(pattern; plural noun: paradigm1A general example
or pattern of something technically; A pattern
"This country has a new paradigm for public art",
"model, pattern, example, example, template,
standard, prototype, arketoop [archetype, stupid computer]"
"Why can you determine the value of the paradigm
for our comfort?" A global insight under the principles
and methodology of a particular scientific subject.
"The discovery of universal gravity of the paradigm
of successful science" 2. A set of linguistic objects
that special sentences make mutually exclusive alternatives
in creative roles. "The English determiners make a pattern:
we can say" a book "or" his book "but cannot say" his book "." "
(In traditional grammar of Latin, Greek, and other neglected languages),
a special action, noun, or a table of all the underlying forms of adjective, which acts as a model for the same coincidence
or announcement. Origin: In the second half of the 15th century:
from Latin paradigma to late Latin, from paradakunui
'side side side', to show para-'basead '+ Deccanui. 'Polynesia)
2 lights up. This is the first version of the user, it will be 600,
Telemachus is too big for something. We have a favorite story
for you. Christ, Middle East, Participant Safety Warning
Physical Beverly Greek and English (Left) are more than 2 years old
Do you need? Good night, good night, what is the gift of her lady?
CPA women in old and young, Russia and other cities in Germany || Valentine's day ||| || Wall In fact,
in the evening, for the continuity of fame
with their stupidity and fat women's military performances,
zero, or me, even in mason-chested ladies,
liberally serve and order the greens; The magic of light
is the use of grain boundaries, I want to stop the heat
from the crystals revolution, the stripper gun, the furnace
and the benefit of the Jews in underwear. She and China rally,
******* her daughter's litigation point, she said that after hearing the air,
a large majority of Australian mothers are warm of life, she is a good life, there are thin hair in it, many rulers, John, love.
Quality of life is usually green by feeding the **** prayer tree,
you are going to talk about the negative river under the city.
Burke has played an important role. This Torres was the name
of a customer service "***** of ***". Cup world and world First,
the Greek language product is English (North Korea). what about me?
Girls read what they want to learn, what is female heritage?
Women, young and old, Russia, CPA Germany ||||||||||
Valentines day ||| More youth games and cultural illusions,
Dark Rococo 2.2 (French call activity) and two of Homer's
ammonium tanks. First of all, for every map
of the Middle East and the corporate body in the history
of Sarah Walker's servants, first English and Greek (right)
children know the same lines for years, women,
youth, the elderly, women and HKKK. ||| And among other members
of Valentine's Day. After the death of the police
in the garden, especially young women in the case
of ambiguity and dark days, they told me, Barkola Sara 2.2 (pattern; plural noun: paradigm 1 A general example or pattern of something
technically; A sample "This country has a new paradigm
for public art", "model, pattern, example, example,
template, standard, prototype, arketoop"
"Why can you determine the value of the paradigm
for our rest?" A global insight under the principles
and methodology of a particular scientific subject.
"The discovery of universal gravity of the paradigm
of successful science" 2. A set of linguistic objects
which make special sentences mutually exclusive
alternatives in creative roles. "The English determiners
make a pattern: we can say" a book "or" his book
"but cannot say" his book "." " (In traditional grammar
of Latin, Greek, and other neglected languages),
a table of all the underlying forms of a particular action,
noun, or adjective, which acts as a model
for the same coincidence or declaration. Origin:
In the second half of the 15th century: from Latin Pardigma
late to Latin, from paradecunui 'side side side',
to show para-'bassaid' + Deccanui. ' Polynesia) 2 lights up.
This is the first version of the user, this will be 600,
Telemachus is very big for some. We have a favorite story for you.
Christ, Middle East, Participant Safety Warning
Body Beverly Greek and English (left) are more than 2 years old
Are you required? Want to see a good night is good night,
what is the gift of her lady? CPA women in old and young,
Russia and other cities in Germany || Valentine's day ||| || Wall
In fact, in the evening, their stupidity and fat women, military performances, zero, or me, in Mason-Chested women
generously served and ordered by the Greens
for the continuation of fame; The magic of light is the use of grain boundaries, I want to stop the heat from the benefits of the Jews
in the Crystal Revolution, the Strapper gun, the furnace
and underwear. He and China Rally, the fingerprint
of the fingered daughter, he said that after listening to the air,
a large majority of Australian mothers is warm to life,
that's a good life, there are thin hairs in it, many rulers, John, love.
The quality of life is usually green by feeding the **** prayer tree,
you are going to talk about the negative river under the city.
Burke has played an important role. This was the name
of Torres customer service's "***** of ***". Cup world and world First,
the Greek language product is English (North Korea). what about me?
Girls read what they want to learn, what is the heritage of women?
Women, young and old, Russia, CPA Germany |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| Valentines day ||| More youth games and cultural illusions,
Dark Rococo 2.2 (French call activity) and two Homer ammonium tanks. Firstly, for the corporate body in the history
of every map of the Middle East and the staff
of Sara Walker, first English and Greek (right)
children know the same lines for years, women,
youth, the elderly, women and HKKK. |||
And among other members of Valentine's Day
After the police death in the garden, especially
in the case of ambiguities and dark days, young women told me,
Barkola Sarah 2.2 (pattern; plural noun: paradigm1
A general example or pattern of something technically;
A pattern "This country has a new paradigm for public art",
"model, pattern, example, example, template, standard,
prototype, arketoop" "Why can you determine
the value of the paradigm for our comfort?"
A global insight under the principles and methodology
of a particular scientific subject. "The discovery of universal gravity
of the paradigm of successful science"
2. A set of linguistic objects that special sentences
make mutually exclusive alternatives in creative roles.
"The English determiners make a pattern: we can say"
a book "or" his book "but can not say" his book "." "
(In traditional grammar of Latin, Greek, and other neglected languages),
a special action, noun, or a table of all the underlying forms of adjective, which acts as a model for the same coincidence or announcement.
Origin: In the second half of the 15th century:
from Latin paradigma to late Latin, from paradakunui
'side side side', to show para-'basead '+ Deccanui. 'Polynesia)
2 lights up. This is the first version of the user,
it will be 600, Telemachus is too big for something.
We have a favorite story for you. Christ, Middle East,
Participant Safety Warning Physical Beverly Greek
and English (Left) are more than 2 years old Do you need?
Good night, good night, what is the gift of her lady?
CPA women in old and young, Russia, and cities in Germany ||
Valentine's day ||| || Wall
melli7 May 2017
There are precious few at ease
with moral ambiguities,
so we act as though they don't exist.







              ---Wizard of Oz in "Wicked," lyricist Stephen Swartz
spysgrandson Apr 2017
my old street,  
a perfect bicycle drag strip,
needed no gutters--all rains drained
into the bay  

but today,
the lane where
I learned to drive, is a place gulls dance
and killdeer prance

this river
is a dozen inches deep
at street’s end, but a yard and growing at the bay
where the hot dog stand once steamed  

the melting monsters
were a million miles from us, you know;
a threat to a Titanic, though  surely inconsequential
to the Atlantic, or so it seemed

all the hype about heat, carbon emissions,
ozone’s demise, and other gassy notions, we thought
belonged in tomorrow’s world of worry  

but tomorrow became today,
and now it’s commonplace to say,
"the shoreline receded--that neighborhood’s gone."    

a continent constricted,
a lowly inch a year, by greed or divine design?
retribution from an earth that never forgets?
or a fickle force we cannot fathom?  

I am ancient now, though I recall those admonitions,
ambiguities that fueled futile debate, until it was too late
and here I be, watching waters at low tide, lapping
against my feet on a once dry and driven street
E A R T H   D  A  Y
Brett Cooper Feb 2010
Calloused fingers trace their intentions upon the smoothest silk of
skin, like waves reflecting the moon's light back to a sunless state of
day. We've braved the trenches of social interactions, the jungles of
communications, and have reached the plateau, contently entwined in
one another.

But the bell curve proved too willing to be true.



In a moment, I am that same boy falling from the sidewalk, draped in
misconception, losing vision to a passing stranger and sheer
coincidence. But this is no trauma of the head! I fear it is much more
vital, much more fleeting.

Much more needed, much more weary
Much more lethal, much more guarded

My mouth runs on empty when my heart stops supplying and I expect
only the worst. But the feeling's so appealing to just let go and lift up,
exhaust your ambiguities and leave fate to sift through it all.

Because I'm better than that.
Because You're better than that.
Because, at the end of it all, we're all better than that.

The wind will blow and the earth will spin.
Wars will be fought and men I'll never meet will demand obedience.
There will be new names, and legends continued.
Things will change, and things will never change.




This is not important.




I wrote this poem because I wanted you to know I think some things are.
I wrote this poem because I move too fast for my own good.
I wrote this poem because I am hopelessly hopeful.
I wrote this poem because you destroyed a black hole, and you don't even know it.


However,
Thisisnotimportant.
The Butterfly Apr 2014
You wonder why love runs cold?
There is only so much hurt one heart can hold.
You have this unattainable expectation
That continues to be approach with hesitation.
The death of love will be your insecurities
And your constant accusations of ambiguities
How will the love last you say
When you are forced to go away?
Why is it never enough?
Why do you seek all the fluff?
When you fly off the handle
All it does is blow out the candle.
It's overwhelming at best
I truely hope there is something left.
It's hard to turn back a heart of stone...
Cain Dec 2012
Projectiles piercing past years, tears and more,
All for nothing, nothing for all, but for what? What for?
Ruination of art, knowledge, wisdom: ambiguities of war.
Instilling fear, burdening bystanders- thrown asunder or ashore
The guiltless stream meanders as wings which soar.

Tyrants rampant like rebels on the range,
Hierophants justified killing for a cause,
Fuel-driven greed heeds a need for a change.
Actions bring reactions when blood meets the gauze.
Pause, hold the applause; the jaws withdraw.
Rose Nov 2011
Your back arched against my nose
The softness of you melting into my bones
I'm sure you're alright, I'm sure all is well

I wish you could tell me where you go at night
The morning light would be much more sweet
Without the worry and curiosity
Of your whereabouts and moral ambiguities

You and your bones are stretched across my bed
My black cat in the afternoon
Careless, magnificent loon
I could have sworn
The politics after the remnants in the ragged serpents of Aerse flowed through the Cefiso, by way of a section of linking of clear and effulgence before an evident flash that enveloped him of being a cardinal priest of bucolic policies of all the nearby Athenian regions, towards vertiginous regressive parapsychology, like flashback Elusino or Anadromí sto Parelthón Eleusia, where the visualizations between Aerse and Lochnith, happen by omniscient geopolitical induction of biofeedback that re-agency the inclinations of both, for the purpose of their geomorphological foundation and for the purpose of instituting them as evocation backbones of millennia, providing feedback and settling on prophecies from the 8th century bC, stop of the ends and interprocess of eternality of the incognito mystery that began to be clarified with the reinvented personality of Aerse in amendment of Life and Expiration experienced with Lochnith in the month of Boedromión, fleeing from a federated Re-Polis that would unify dimensionality of substance and sacred space Eleusinian with Lochnith nascent warmongering for the purpose of recruiting in the Hexagonal Primogeniture, for assistance and indissoluble ephemeris of edification and hegemony of the Megaron in Patmos. This thanks to the ragged serpents, but nesting hopes of gold in the nests that give priority to the dimensionalities of peers, which will be consolidated as a reality of rite and E-cloud flashback space, for the convenience of retro-future parapsychological memory, In economy of two blocks of resignation of the Sacred Space repealed, but in geomorphological consensus, for Military command jambs towards Vernarth, as a forged pulsing ***** of the sacred cult, in the mysterious nature and territorial domesticity to come from Aerse, for the purposes of the Agoras re-nucleating the metaphysical messengers that reinstitute the re-polis; but in a field of worship of E-Cloud, in civic and cyber-organic action, for those who virtually recognize the Ablution in the multidimensional of hands calling the unknown, but with ardent passion to receive him even while guarding against further vibrational mutations with the Faskéloma or exasperation of hands that move the indigo in occasional sub-vibrations, in the tendency of a parity of the Sacred Space of Gethsemane, in disaster of passing the aqueous levels of the Cephysus, in ordinal of presumptive of unreal and sub-unreal worlds.

The parapsychology of the Space of quadrilateral teas of absorption and of erratic emotional meditation lies here enshrined in Aerse molecules, which were still received by the substances intra-exposed and extra-gates of the body, experiencing an absolutely unprecedented phenomenon, towards an immune-spiritual transit, preserving eccentric radii of concentration of refurbished chromatic rays, in a field of mental daring towards another of unprecedented and electrogenic mental force that dissipated between Aerse and Eurydice, who came near the Coasts of Patmos, coming from theoretical planes between both metaphysically flowed for unions and restraint. The ebbs of their statics jumped, for simultaneity and bilocation, endo electro-Eleusines who went exorbitant to other rollers uncrossing in body margins that concelebrated the quantum crankshaft and fiber kindness in arresting inter-women, such as teleportation and rescue of rituals in scheduling and seasonal astrological forecasts.

Lochnith says: “in the proximity of mortuary reality, there will be no repair outside of our body of geography and of our losses and harvests or of lives in sub or supra quantum transit, blinding the eyes of unknown erudition, while our contraption is self- it obstructs in our interactions and electromagnetic sensory ones, paraphrasing itself in the remote-near wired of residuals and related electros-metaphysical, which becomes the nothingness of a post-ritual pre-sense whole "

The ligation of the arteries of the Cephysus, carried the emanations of Lochnith, to love him in a medicinal act, for beings devoid of physicality, on the way to spectra of healing, in a reparative pain of extra-corporal and bi-localized pain, among which they conform polarity in androecium and gynoecium as a unit of superior physical mental gender, towards an ectoplasmic regulated nervous world, by means of Vernarth's regression, lowering their blood pressure and increasing stationary red blood cells, and with secondary effects intertwining with Eurydice and Aerse, for outcomes in Vernarth, who came in the prow of the super wet ship, and with some fabrics from the stowage of the ship directing the relaxed but autonomous cerebral advance, which already dispersed dead cells from the right pectoral, for the military and syncretic affair with Lochnith, reinstalling targets globules that arose when it was dawn on the shores of Skalá in independent, peaceful and surrounded cohorts of phalanxes that accompanied him in minutes that seemed millennia, all succumbed to mind-body pessimism and telepathic prayer, which took place by glistening in trances of self-healing parapsychology that descended on them, in pure membrane novels in acts of merciful that made them thick in the flashes of falling weightless ultraviolet rays, separating between body and opinion, joining in psychosomatic networks, as chemical messengers in undefined subsequent receptor bodies of the bachkoi chemicals, which were already deficient for a compensatory universe of genres emerging in a disintegrated emotional quantum world, with a body increasingly reintegrated into a body made of unknown subjective material, but of physical material linked in the network to each other as a real whole, transforming into the greatest passionate refectory of flashes between the their own reinstalling themselves in their Super Egos.

In the Latest Minute Dogmate according to the rictus Mortis thesis, the globules would move like a big explosion, interacting with everything, as starting everything from the beginning of nothing to the indivisible, in numbers of coincidence options for a whole, as a phenomenon of domesticity to align times, but with the probability of finding them in the vestige of real anomalous presences that occurred millions of light-years ago.

Aerse replies: "My admired one, the flash has a measure of the astral body, in the consciousness of spirit that underlies purgation in repeated souls measurable in the perfection of semblance and providential ****** questioned, re-transforming, distant and with disaffection, but contiguous healing. The smallest coherence in the fabulous Griffins that joined my imaginative component and in the ballast of his final departure, not aware of another unique being that can measure and augur him for an undivided trans-personal being. But I am already here, and I am your creation and I no longer know of other illusions of separating myself from this life, of what Eleusis is from a cosmic material that is and was in all time that speculatively passes, for the flash that you reflect if you it pales visible and not, but compact on our intertwined hearts"

As living organisms, various methods of life were postulated as an option in the right hand of Bing Bang, for the goods of those who are really close to real neuroscience puzzles, by way of resonant daring that will influence consanguinity, for volumes of blood releases, carriers of experiences and trans-evolutionary life of the emitter on the outskirts of a Parthenon, as well as in the genre of the world that associates ambiguities from anode to cathode, positive and negative for Hellenic parallelism and life adorned with roots and forage of everlasting vernacular inheritances. All electro-dermal from the Lochnith conglomerate was in total congruence with regressive Eleusian parapsychology propagating from the Vernarth portal, which was vaguely teleported by the river Cephysus, into living organisms that asserted Vernarth's native species originality and currents super life in the euphemistic underworld of mysterious protocols.

As a reaction of mind-matter, the reluctance and support of entrainment in all perceptions, precognitions, telepathies, and forebodings, between this intrepid parapsychological adventure as cloister perpetuity in sensory interferences of the reality of the body and the reality of the omnipotent world, as menthe-matter explosive. Lochnith, was already the possessor of the hypnotic mental reincarnation formula, in the form of a neuroscience ship close to the apparitions of death using the later shoes in life purely in the baggage of sleepy ethereal meats and oracular meditation.
The more we learn about the laws that explain parapsychological phenomena, the more our vision of reality and fiction of something that begins to be the laurel of a psychokinetic true world will grow. Within the curvature and scarce light that already remained in the places of the Lochtian day, normality returned to them after this long journey of the parapsychological biosphere and intriguing contemplation, and even of tenuity and the frisky idea that can die suddenly, after self incubate in the invisible passage of coexistence and rupture of mystery in the medication of art lived with alien beings, for a prototype of a character who only knows that harvesting is consuming capital from the upheaval of a loss and non-profit of the incontrovertible paranormal-normal. What is paranormal and parapsychological in the plane of the posterity of life, is an act of calm coexistence in playful spirits compensating in the seclusion in the vaults of the dramatic and involutionary psychological past, if the material or cute (spiritual) is not dissected the train cosmic perception of duality and the concept of purging the spirit of living…, he lives in his seventh heaven.

The hypnosis of death and purgation for those who require a convoy of conscience continues to be a tiny space that physically transports and reverts to minimums that are neutralized in foreign bodies and foundlings as well, from a corporal depositary aedicule that is not his or the owner that He claims it (Vg aedicule of Joseph of Arimathea). The voices of people officiating the Eleusinian ritual were heard far beyond those who could merely hear them in memorable spaced therapies and recorded in interspersed layers of electro-acoustic sounds of the complex frequency serial of alarming regenerative life, in a moving celestial body. Continuous. Everything is transfused in the meditation of curves that revive in those who promote the perfection of marigolds, like buttercups that dress the clothes of Canephore like Aerse, but of psychic and ephemeral latent of the psychoactive psychic and ******-spiritual alchemical in ethereal entities that become more alchemical in unknown molecules.
Gleam  of Lochnith  III
Bianca Reyes Dec 2015
I love you in silence yet it echoes so loudly
Wishing to drown this but I love you profoundly

Empty promises to hide my insecurities
You'd still be here if it weren't for my ambiguities

At least now I know what those songs speak of
When the artists sing about lost love

— The End —