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"arisen" poems
Im a calm, cool collected cucumber underneath this fandangled, wiry, wrinkled visage. Ive escaped the clutches of the tangled snare of my image. Where and when I belong and to whom is no matter. I pass by groups and clans and grimace inquisitively at thier chatter. To my ears its an alien clamour of clashing egos and look at me's. They'd all be happier in a lonesome cross legged position enjoying the breeze beneath the trees. With ease I float through my day passionately. Expanding and contracting with the waves of existence. I sway indefinitely. Yield to and renounce the question arisen from the back of the mind "what does it mean to be me"
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Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
identity
Beyond a beginingless beginning. It was but was not any "god" or "goddess". It was but was not "deva" or "devi". It was but was not "angel" or "demon". It was but was not a metaphysical being of any kind. It was but had not any name nor could it be named. It was but had not any face nor likeness. It was but had not any body not corporeal form. It was but had not gender nor *** It was but was not incarnate or disincarnate. It was but was not existent nor non existent. It was but could not be described by any words in any way. It was but had not depth nor height nor breadth nor volume. It was but could not be measured in any way. It was but could not be imagined. It was but had not materiality of any kind. It was but had not immateriality in any way. It was but had not space nor lack of space. It was but had not direction nor lack of direction. It was but had not nothingness. It was but had not somethingness. It was but had not anythingness. It was but had not beingness. It was but had not light nor dark. It was but had not wetness or dryness. It was but was not nowhere. It was but had not somewhere. It was but had not anywhere. It was and then it manifested the nature of its essence and became the endless Universe and all that was in the Universe. All that was incarnate. All that was disincarnate. All that was physical and metaphysical. All that was existing and non existing. And still it was. It manifested itself in ignorance of its own nature as the Isness of the Universe,in order to participate in the existence it had created from its own nature on an equal and fair level with humanity. It gave of itself by incarnating a small piece of its own nature into all human bodies,both male and female ,equally but different,at conception and then it made them all ignorant of their beginings as it made itself ignorant of its own beginings. And then it set these Isness incarnated in human bodies the riddle of the existence that had arisen from its manifestation as the Universe and all that was in it. It posed these three questions to Humanity and itself. 1--What am I?. 2--Why am I here?. 3--When I know what I am then what is my purpose. The Isness of the Universe set each individual Isness incarnated in a human body the task of realising its own nature,which was a part of the nature of the Isness of the Universe, so that each individual Isness could then show the Isness of the Universe its own nature incarnated in a human body,female or male equally of any skin colour,dancing the dance of life,singing the song of life.. The principle governing our joint action on creating the Universe and all it contains,especially Humanity,was that before you can reach the heights of Existence you must  go through the depths of Existence. And oh boy are we going through the depths playing these Mind games?. www.beyondenlightenment.co.uk
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May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 1:05 AM UTC
The Isness of the Universe
Beyond a beginingless beginning. It was but was not any "god" or "goddess". It was but was not "deva" or "devi". It was but was not "angel" or "demon". It was but was not a metaphysical being of any kind. It was but had not any name nor could it be named. It was but had not any face nor likeness. It was but had not any body not corporeal form. It was but had not gender nor *** It was but was not incarnate or disincarnate. It was but was not existent nor non existent. It was but could not be described by any words in any way. It was but had not depth nor height nor breadth nor volume. It was but could not be measured in any way. It was but could not be imagined. It was but had not materiality of any kind. It was but had not immateriality in any way. It was but had not space nor lack of space. It was but had not direction nor lack of direction. It was but had not nothingness. It was but had not somethingness. It was but had not anythingness. It was but had not beingness. It was but had not light nor dark. It was but had not wetness or dryness. It was but was not nowhere. It was but had not somewhere. It was but had not anywhere. It was and then it manifested the nature of its essence and became the endless Universe and all that was in the Universe. All that was incarnate. All that was disincarnate. All that was physical and metaphysical. All that was existing and non existing. And still it was. It manifested itself in ignorance of its own nature as the Isness of the Universe,in order to participate in the existence it had created from its own nature on an equal and fair level with humanity. It gave of itself by incarnating a small piece of its own nature into all human bodies,both male and female ,equally but different,at conception and then it made them all ignorant of their beginings as it made itself ignorant of its own beginings. And then it set these Isness incarnated in human bodies the riddle of the existence that had arisen from its manifestation as the Universe and all that was in it. It posed these three questions to Humanity and itself. 1--What am I?. 2--Why am I here?. 3--When I know what I am then what is my purpose. The Isness of the Universe set each individual Isness incarnated in a human body the task of realising its own nature,which was a part of the nature of the Isness of the Universe, so that each individual Isness could then show the Isness of the Universe its own nature incarnated in a human body,female or male equally of any skin colour,dancing the dance of life,singing the song of life.. The principle governing our joint action on creating the Universe and all it contains,especially Humanity,was that before you can reach the heights of Existence you must  go through the depths of Existence. And oh boy are we going through the depths playing these Mind games?. www.beyondenlightenment.co.uk
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46
It will be different with different people and it will be different at different times. If love really grows, this is the way: first you fall in love with the woman because her body is beautiful. That is the first available beauty - her face, her eyes, her proportion, her elegance, her dancing, pulsating energy. Her body is beautiful. That is the first approach. You fall in love. Then after a few days you start going deeper into the woman. You start loving her heart. Now a far more beautiful revelation is coming to you. The body becomes secondary; the heart becomes primary. A new vision has arisen, a new peak. If you go on loving the woman, sooner or later you will find there are peaks beyond peaks, depths beyond depths. Then you start loving the soul of the woman. Then it is not only her heart - now that has become secondary. Now it is the very person, the very presence, the very radiance, the aliveness, that unknown phenomenon of her being - that she is. The body is very far away, the heart has also gone away - now the being is. And then one day this particular woman's being becomes far away. Now you start loving womanhood in her, the femininity, the feminineness, that receptivity. Now she is not a particular woman at all, she simply reflects womanhood, a particular form of womanhood. Now it is no longer individual, it is becoming more and more universal. And one day that womanhood has also disappeared - you love the humanity in her. Now she is not just a representative of woman, she is also a representative of man as much. The sky is becoming bigger and bigger. Then one day it is not humanity, but existence. That she exists, that's all that you want - that she exists. You are coming very close to God. Then the last point comes - all formulations and all forms disappear and there is God. You have found God through your woman, through your man. Each love is an echo of God's love. Osho
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Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
When you love a woman
It will be different with different people and it will be different at different times. If love really grows, this is the way: first you fall in love with the woman because her body is beautiful. That is the first available beauty - her face, her eyes, her proportion, her elegance, her dancing, pulsating energy. Her body is beautiful. That is the first approach. You fall in love. Then after a few days you start going deeper into the woman. You start loving her heart. Now a far more beautiful revelation is coming to you. The body becomes secondary; the heart becomes primary. A new vision has arisen, a new peak. If you go on loving the woman, sooner or later you will find there are peaks beyond peaks, depths beyond depths. Then you start loving the soul of the woman. Then it is not only her heart - now that has become secondary. Now it is the very person, the very presence, the very radiance, the aliveness, that unknown phenomenon of her being - that she is. The body is very far away, the heart has also gone away - now the being is. And then one day this particular woman's being becomes far away. Now you start loving womanhood in her, the femininity, the feminineness, that receptivity. Now she is not a particular woman at all, she simply reflects womanhood, a particular form of womanhood. Now it is no longer individual, it is becoming more and more universal. And one day that womanhood has also disappeared - you love the humanity in her. Now she is not just a representative of woman, she is also a representative of man as much. The sky is becoming bigger and bigger. Then one day it is not humanity, but existence. That she exists, that's all that you want - that she exists. You are coming very close to God. Then the last point comes - all formulations and all forms disappear and there is God. You have found God through your woman, through your man. Each love is an echo of God's love. Osho
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5
Eternity is closed ! - come back another day with flower smears for eyes and sincere passion on your palms          (weathered) I need another Russian Doll - Princess to frequent curtains fashioned from fire & lead equaling out to crimson folds which mysteriously call to the mystical hierarchies of imagination Silent requirements signal beneath the steps which welcome one (a stranger/ an Ibis-Beak cane & dark coat stamped with August rain) They arrive unexpectedly, as if to play the game of cliches, they carry promises fashioned in foreign ports tapping my knee instead of my shoulder having only known or recognized entombment                                (there is no hyperbole which lacks within                                 Nature's haunted heavens) My strange visitor leaves / glass umbrella in hand / to privacy / our brief interaction begins & ends with simple eager undertakings implemented in the afterword   What is in another's contemplation of me? whiling in manifest Theosophy - - Thought form - Primal child-rage / whisp of violet smoke & inksplotches abolished, mutually panting. Our decorated four-legged hunter has arisen and impatiently craves for the Earth to partner at last with the Sun ..The Sun a blazing dime I can smell crispness in the air
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Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 1:20 AM UTC
Summer Visitations
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, sunset west moon flies east? ;] air planes soar beyond the limits they roar in a longing stare they long disappearing through the clouds and gone arise arose arisen and in my place still frozen wizen they venture the winds purple skied time to blend and wing the moon menaces racing in line glistening afar from the back of a wounded scar archer to the future claiming a bleach where does it go? where does it reach? maybe Saturn not here but the return is there to the node of the belong flying up no fear seems my flight gonna wait for years the waxing gibbous flies and I hope for dreams in the close of eyes ------ravenfeels
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Jun 23, 2021
Jun 23, 2021 at 12:05 PM UTC
Waxing Gibbous Moon Flies
There are days That I look in the mirror and see An unfamiliar face There’s a disconnect and I’m Dissociative. I know it’s me, But it feels all so strange To not feel anything at all. There are off days When I speak to people And I feel nothing from their eyes They’re just empty and I’m Dissociative. You want to have some emotion But frankly, There’s none there Because a glass wall has arisen Between you and the world And that’s Dissociative. Like the time I was walking And it was a movie all around me No depth, Just a two dimensional view I was Dissociative. Or that time that I was floating In the top right of my body As only my concious, Looking down on myself Because I was Dissociative.
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Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 10:08 PM UTC
dissociative
Cherubim, Seraphim Watching from above, afar a flying dove; crepuscular Peace of mind in you we find, arcane Playing amongst the darkness, what we were I forgot Bairn devine, Define; Angelic promises, Demonic pride Cosmic tears, is it to ourselves we lie? Through my eyes I see the mirror of indifference Aeon-Antiquity Shadows illuminated by night, the moon the bringer of light Corona, soul. Angelic promises made in hell! Deistic dipterous demons within thee; watch 'de'skies', Demonic pride facing fears vanquishing friend or fiend The belligerent zenith a conflagerated nirvana. Inside ourselves we die, we lie for salvation; trying. You watched us in thy darkness- You took away the light; Now know more, shadows shed pain An acrimonial heaven built upon the burning of sepulchre. Tear drops of eternal rain Splashing on the doorstep of purgatory Like dew on a rose Dawn arisen, Ethereal ebullience the dream of cornucopia; An Elysian asphodel Cerulean, Azure. 1997 ELEETE J MUIR
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Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
Horizon
Lie not to me but lie with me upon a bed of wheat, and feast upon my beauty where even salt tastes sweet. Now touch me not but touch me deep leave prints upon my heart, and steal my breath with kisses tear my world apart. Then hear me not but hear me there within the want and ache, as need of me arisen steals what no theif can take. Mine is yours if yours is mine, not just for now but for all of time.
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Jun 6, 2012
Jun 6, 2012 at 6:06 AM UTC
Forget me Not
Passover or Easter or Happy Any Ole Thing, Sam I Am she asks me good naturedly which to wish me - a happy this or that and a poem’s immaculate conception is instant arisen arising hot **** rueful smile and unruly reply a solid out loud Ha! neither either or he writes and so believes for I am a god loving man, whom we’ve -Him/It/Me have agreed that I may call Sam I Am and the answer to your question is why not for most quests and questions can be well-answered why not! my genes my historical beings my ancestors and my issue all declaiming that I am a jew who left egypt, no defaming, a slave to no man who cannot love another like his own self but some in all that I write, this deity boss slips in quietly unseen in one of his jokes-on-us-disguises like singing ave maria and thus whose to say his rightful name, is not Sam I Am my choice and the big D      (a self-employed informal his choice, nom-de-guerre) has agreed via his acknowledgement in his normative style of low volume taciturn tacit acceptance so wish me a u happy anything you want-to-call-it-day don’t matter. but know this u were there when, all on that happy day where, @ the manger, when this Sam-Approved-Appeared poem was born and Sam blessed it with a hot **** she laughs, tosses back in my face, some schematic I prior penned that I can’t recall the when or where or my nom-de-guerre employed but fits this ex-slave perfectly “there are no lines or lies in my writings there are no definitions and perception is only your truth”
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Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 12:22 PM UTC
Passover or Easter or Happy Any Ole Thing, Sam I Am
Passover or Easter or Happy Any Ole Thing, Sam I Am she asks me good naturedly which to wish me - a happy this or that and a poem’s immaculate conception is instant arisen arising hot **** rueful smile and unruly reply a solid out loud Ha! neither either or he writes and so believes for I am a god loving man, whom we’ve -Him/It/Me have agreed that I may call Sam I Am and the answer to your question is why not for most quests and questions can be well-answered why not! my genes my historical beings my ancestors and my issue all declaiming that I am a jew who left egypt, no defaming, a slave to no man who cannot love another like his own self but some in all that I write, this deity boss slips in quietly unseen in one of his jokes-on-us-disguises like singing ave maria and thus whose to say his rightful name, is not Sam I Am my choice and the big D      (a self-employed informal his choice, nom-de-guerre) has agreed via his acknowledgement in his normative style of low volume taciturn tacit acceptance so wish me a u happy anything you want-to-call-it-day don’t matter. but know this u were there when, all on that happy day where, @ the manger, when this Sam-Approved-Appeared poem was born and Sam blessed it with a hot **** she laughs, tosses back in my face, some schematic I prior penned that I can’t recall the when or where or my nom-de-guerre employed but fits this ex-slave perfectly “there are no lines or lies in my writings there are no definitions and perception is only your truth”
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40
Descriptive words could not say enough, Informing you without any expectations, A simple need to express the damage, Of not meeting your qualifications. You're ignorance; both gift and curse, False belief from your deception, Subsequent pain leading to anger, Infiltrated like an infection. Valuable lessons learned from you -- Benefit of the doubt should not be given, Further regret seeped into life, Now that my demons have arisen. Plunging into bitter sweet weakness, A temptation I could not resist, Pathetic attempt at leaving flesh, As the blade split open the wrist. Consumed at my loneliest moment, Tired of giving without receiving, Defeated by my persistent demons, Manipulated by thoughts of relieving. Perception changes with reality, Enlightened by harsh, clear thoughts, A choice to no longer be controlled, Thus, the day that I fought. Strong desires to be able to forget, Lips softly speaking lies after lies, Though admittance was not achievable, The truth came from your eyes. Care was not something of existence, Simply sheets and pillows, Know that in the end it will be you, as sad as the leaves of a weeping willow.
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Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 12:17 AM UTC
Demons
**In the shadow of Everest people are dying Crushed in a chaos embirthed from beneath, Emerged as destructor of temple and Taos, Emerged as an innocent killer... bequeathed. History crumbles as heavens roar mightily Ghorka is dead in an avalanche of rock, Beggars and potentates crushed  in the brickfall Dharahara’s fall leaves men gaping in shock. Shuddering mountains in avalanche of free fall Wails of the stricken as quaking defiles, Gold topped pagodas and statue of ancients, Sculpture of lions now a rubble in piles. Khathmandu in the clasp of calamity Nightmarish forces arisen from deep, Grasping the earth in their grip of profanity Monstrously tearing the bedrock from sleep. A techtonic ****** of Asia by India Nepal’s Himalayas ****** to the sky, Inconsequential, this plight of humanity Nature proceeds as poor Nepalese die.** M. ANZAC Day 25 April 2015
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Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 5:45 PM UTC
In the Shadow of Everest
All wise and knowing seer of Delphi, Oracle I beg thee tell me, What enchanting malady afflicts my mortal soul? It churns my stomach like as butter, pangs my heart and makes it flutter, Spins my thoughts so rapidly, I lose all self-control; A wildly spinning vortex and I lose all self-control. Striking deeply, sharp blades whirring, thrusting madly, twisting, turning, Searing pain that scorches, burning, brings me to despair; Silently it tracks and trails me, pouncing when my courage fails me, Oracle, what sickness ails me? Save me from its snare; Oh wise and noble Oracle, what has me in its snare? Mortal fool, be still and listen, I espied you in a vision, Ancient magic has arisen from the depths of hell; Crafted in the Devil's furnace, cunningly it seeks to burn its Way into your soul, I've seen this, none can break its spell; It knows your every weakness and you cannot break its spell. You must succumb and do it swift, or e'er your soul will be adrift, Held captive in the Devil's rift, your mind will split asunder; Your struggle will be fought in vain, eternal doom in endless pain, Relent or e'er you'll feel its bane, your soul it comes to plunder; You must relent and let it in, or feel its wrathful thunder. Oh Oracle, all wise and knowing, fear inside me keeps on growing, I can sense a chill wind blowing, filling me with dread; Although your words seem strange and hollow, I submit and gladly follow, For I know the God Apollo guides the path you tread; Wise Apollo takes your hand and guides the path you tread. -- What sweet exquisite joy I'm feeling, giddily my head is reeling, Days have passed and find me kneeling at my sweethearts feet; Oh Oracle, I will not tarry, asking her if she will marry, Saving me from malady, she makes my soul complete; She drives away the malady and makes my soul complete.
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May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 4:45 AM UTC
The Devil's Curse
All wise and knowing seer of Delphi, Oracle I beg thee tell me, What enchanting malady afflicts my mortal soul? It churns my stomach like as butter, pangs my heart and makes it flutter, Spins my thoughts so rapidly, I lose all self-control; A wildly spinning vortex and I lose all self-control. Striking deeply, sharp blades whirring, thrusting madly, twisting, turning, Searing pain that scorches, burning, brings me to despair; Silently it tracks and trails me, pouncing when my courage fails me, Oracle, what sickness ails me? Save me from its snare; Oh wise and noble Oracle, what has me in its snare? Mortal fool, be still and listen, I espied you in a vision, Ancient magic has arisen from the depths of hell; Crafted in the Devil's furnace, cunningly it seeks to burn its Way into your soul, I've seen this, none can break its spell; It knows your every weakness and you cannot break its spell. You must succumb and do it swift, or e'er your soul will be adrift, Held captive in the Devil's rift, your mind will split asunder; Your struggle will be fought in vain, eternal doom in endless pain, Relent or e'er you'll feel its bane, your soul it comes to plunder; You must relent and let it in, or feel its wrathful thunder. Oh Oracle, all wise and knowing, fear inside me keeps on growing, I can sense a chill wind blowing, filling me with dread; Although your words seem strange and hollow, I submit and gladly follow, For I know the God Apollo guides the path you tread; Wise Apollo takes your hand and guides the path you tread. -- What sweet exquisite joy I'm feeling, giddily my head is reeling, Days have passed and find me kneeling at my sweethearts feet; Oh Oracle, I will not tarry, asking her if she will marry, Saving me from malady, she makes my soul complete; She drives away the malady and makes my soul complete.
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31
My hair is braided, I swear Somedays I wear it like a crown And somedays a crown of thorns Creditors keep calling I don’t answer Friends reach out Reluctantly I engage Engagement like a minimum-security prison Hush, the weak have arisen That’s some days I long for, crave for Nothing Answers Fulfillment Peace Emptiness Apple pie? French Fries With loads of ketchup Presence Yes, That’s it The present-perfect moment Wrapped in gift gold A pen that doesn’t skip Except down the street A pen that writes what it wants Not what it’s told Without regards to you A totally naked pen Unselfconsciously naked pen A pen without permission A pen without presumption A pen without proper purpose A pen without a penchant for perfection (excuse the alliteration) Without politeness or uptightness A pen that flip-flops A pen that hides under the covers when you’re around A pen that doesn’t stop Even after it runs out of ink Pink Ink Think ink Until I get tired of pink think ink A pen that doesn’t get bored so easily Like you Maybe I do   And maybe I don’t Maybe we’re two pens in a pod. Oh, fickle pen That’s so like you Yup’ the pen made me do it I’m a slave to the pen What’s up with you?
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Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 2:17 PM UTC
Two Pens in a Pod
Odin, watch over my girl as she's sleeping. Dry each tear that she fell asleep weeping. Light candles in the windows of Valhalla's hall. Hang paintings of her on its every wall. Shield upon forearm, axe in my hand. At the gates of Àsgarðr I finally stand. Pour ale in my horn, say lad, you are late! Fallen by foesword, arisen by faith. Odin, as hard as the stone of your throne Were Life and Love, even unalone. Born as Lover, to worship and feel. Grew into Warrior, wounds that won't heal Now fester with thoughts of lovers and friends That all remain stories; everything ends. I look down at Miðgarðr, and long for it not. Now life with the gods is all that I've got. Odin, watch over my girl as she sleeps. Be gentle when picking the memories she keeps. The ones where my patience was tested, you burn. But keep some regrets; we all need to learn. Allow me inside, and let us begin. Let's drink to the warmth of a woman's skin. Let's drink to the soul of a Norseman saved. I'm hanging with gods. Just dig me my grave.
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Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 2:24 PM UTC
Àsgarðr (Just Dig me my Grave)
[Dedicated to Allan Bennett] I Hail to the golden One Seen in the midmost Sun ! Hail to the golden beard and golden lips, His whole lige golden to the finger-tips ! Hail to the golden hair in golden showers Hiding the eyes like blue blue lotus-flowers ! His name is Ut, for He Hath risen above all things that be. II Ardent and white, the Lord Whirls forth a strident sword. Its blade is broader than the great World-Ash ; Its edge is keener than the lightning flash. Brighter than all the lights of heaven, it whirls Out in a chaos of creative curls And sheathes itself in Me, Arisen above all things that be. III Even as the burning tongue Og God to God that clung Dissolved his being to a nameless naught, Brake all the wings and waves of time and thought, So in the quivering flame that hurled Its founts of life to the remotest world Supreme stood Death, and sware Destruction to all things that were ! IV Child, father, warrior, I worshipped thee before ; Friend, bridegroom, now I yield me to the rod. My God, and very God of very God As breath, as death, as all, as naught, unknown, Known, is there not an end, when one alone Stand I, and thou, and He Arisen above all things that be?
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Ut
Mirage of red passion coursing emotional courting Love being placed hopes being fostered an inner dawn offered Seeing worlds flourish strength arisen like lazarus nothing remotely hazardous How one person can paint your world anew dripping in the glory imbued
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Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 1:21 PM UTC
Red
I sometimes sit and think about how I wouldn't mind if the world ended I know its wrong of me to say that at face value, but deep down inside I know we all think it not that the earth itself should be destroyed into oblivion, but the opposite that the world should live on and the cancerous growth of humanity should be cured its a pessimistic way of looking at things , I know, but I cant help but feel this short ride of ours on this planet is careening out of control I'm not a nihilist or an anarchist or an environmentalist nor a ********* for that matter I'm not afraid to die because I believe I will no longer exist when I do but the pointlessness of it all and the blatant disregard for others, other species other lives other kinds other minds disregard for the future for cleanliness leads me to these thoughts, that a septic surplus has arisen on this singularly magnificent gift of life in this one and only known universe and we sit here ******** all over it... I sometimes think it'd be best if we all just left
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Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 8:51 PM UTC
End of Days
In the fall of light, Trees turn to stone. This time the sun removes, Told in tales of the rise of moon. Light winds rustle rusted leaves— And a fur will soon be feathered in a bed. And silence screeches as some flying bark embarks And the very trees are hollowed in their grieves of the newly Throrned, red, running rose— of the dearly claimed, arisen dead.
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
Owl
A growing sickness Flowing through my veins Burning away inside, eating me away As the darkness takes over from within. Lapses in sanity, I find myself lying In cold sweat, falling through the chasm And I know its only a matter of time Before the demon inside has arisen. A manic bloodlust takes over my being I ache for the violence to be set free. In their dead eyes, I see reflections of mine A murderous gleam shining within As my face stretches into a smile that isn’t mine. Every fibre of my being, repulsed by myself Petrified by the beast I have become I cry out in pain and anguish As I feel Him taking over again. Under the light of the gibbous moon I revel in my madness, as her Screams goad me on and take me To the precipice. I stand grinning at Her broken,bloody form in the earth As she whimpers a pathetic plea for mercy. No one knows of my disease; He only Claims my body for himself in the dark Leaving me behind to feel the horror and disgust In the cold, grey sunlight. Every night I struggle inside I fight against my inner devil, pleading For reason and humanity to return To the twisted ******* I have become. He stretches my face into a wide smirk Reminding me of that exquisite, repulsive Scent of flowing gore; He coaxes me, He cajoles, He beckons me to join Him As my will weakens and my body surrenders. And so ends my tale, I have lost myself To the contorted insanity I bred inside. Horrified, repulsed, revolted with my being My death only entices me now Promising relief from my unholy illness. But I know that small comfort is lost on me Eventually, He’ll possess me entirely And in the remorse of this truth I lie And I feel Him return inside, eagerly awaiting my demise No more can I hold out against Him. No more can I wear the mask of Jekyll.
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Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 10:53 PM UTC
Jekyll
A growing sickness Flowing through my veins Burning away inside, eating me away As the darkness takes over from within. Lapses in sanity, I find myself lying In cold sweat, falling through the chasm And I know its only a matter of time Before the demon inside has arisen. A manic bloodlust takes over my being I ache for the violence to be set free. In their dead eyes, I see reflections of mine A murderous gleam shining within As my face stretches into a smile that isn’t mine. Every fibre of my being, repulsed by myself Petrified by the beast I have become I cry out in pain and anguish As I feel Him taking over again. Under the light of the gibbous moon I revel in my madness, as her Screams goad me on and take me To the precipice. I stand grinning at Her broken,bloody form in the earth As she whimpers a pathetic plea for mercy. No one knows of my disease; He only Claims my body for himself in the dark Leaving me behind to feel the horror and disgust In the cold, grey sunlight. Every night I struggle inside I fight against my inner devil, pleading For reason and humanity to return To the twisted ******* I have become. He stretches my face into a wide smirk Reminding me of that exquisite, repulsive Scent of flowing gore; He coaxes me, He cajoles, He beckons me to join Him As my will weakens and my body surrenders. And so ends my tale, I have lost myself To the contorted insanity I bred inside. Horrified, repulsed, revolted with my being My death only entices me now Promising relief from my unholy illness. But I know that small comfort is lost on me Eventually, He’ll possess me entirely And in the remorse of this truth I lie And I feel Him return inside, eagerly awaiting my demise No more can I hold out against Him. No more can I wear the mask of Jekyll.
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47
In the ash Burnt pit of despair I find my fear Dipped in the blood of my ancestors My blade greets me I am whole a man amongst men My bones echo back through the centuries Through the earth, Mountains, Rivers... Carrying the spirit of the land To rejoin the souls of old With those now standing tall. A robin sings and moves from branch to ground Hunts Fearless Protective Arisen from ash Pit Harmony
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Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 5:48 AM UTC
PIT
A red moon cast on a folly filled night Humans hid away in fright A haunting melody was in the air tonight For the Bone King had arisen from his lair A lone maiden of silky woven red dared For she ventured into lands mortals bewared Slowly following the music of the dead Not knowing where it led She encountered the King amongst the tombs of the undead The land around him had already dwindled Not even a single flower had remained But she did not dare fleed Slowly she took his bony hand As they danced amongst his land The Bone King was in disbelief Why was this fair maiden not scared? “Maiden, wherefore art thou not afraid? I dareth not guaranteeth thou art safe, f'r I am but a monst'r.” “Why should I be afraid of the most magnificent being ever made? My king, you fail to understand, for our souls are a reflection of one another.” "I am a monst'r, am I not? F'r all apart from thee did withdraw, leaving me withthe sc'rn undead." "You are for them, my King. But what value do the words they utter hold? Beauty rests in the eye of the beholder." "And f'r me, thou art the most wondrous."
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Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 11:58 PM UTC
Waltz of the Bone King
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, this is my revival:p this time I fluctuate I breathe annihilation what got rid of me I got rid of liberation the hurt carried on the pearl as seen before makes me moon the past a perfect doom not ignore more I find reckless but in good tenders bile arisen comes to a chocolate cake remembers something for me for once and all the apart rejoined from the great unregretted fall said suffer time on the twentieth last of year a June not ought for my happiness not dear not a remnant since then but not worth the resentment other than a rapid eye above buried graves let be dreaded for my save mentioned a one to hurt one to dream a revival knows the uniqueness that beams now one to petty one to go one to memory one to soon my compass is to be found in dune -----ravenfeels
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Jun 1, 2021
Jun 1, 2021 at 5:22 PM UTC
Gone Juno
Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? Live for the weekend Watch TV Live for the weekend Watch TV Out on the town for the weekend Watch TV Watch TV Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? Escape into your escapism Get lost in your escapism Trust in your escapism Get trapped into escapism Escape from your escapism Escape from your self made prison Escape the acceptance that's arisen Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? We're Drones Robotics Clones on antibiotics Zoned hypnotic Habitually ****** Artificially exotic Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? You're watching your *** life on Tv A package holiday - pretend to be free Post on Facebook how life should be Focus your kids on getting a C Lurching towards you - Hollow eyes Pale Gaunt - Fed on lies In systems that we all despise Because you sat at home on your own Or In a pub over grub Or on a phone having a moan Or a coffee shop pontificating Or a lecture cleverly debating Or an artists studio 'creating' But you didn't ******* do anything did you? You thought about it You talked about it You sat and maybe wrote about it But you actually DID nought about it Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? What if we in our liberal pomposity Followed up our curiosity And put an end to a small atrocity Instead of deliberating the big ones Stop ******* telling people they're wrong and get off your **** and prove it. Do something.
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May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 7:38 AM UTC
Do something
Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? Live for the weekend Watch TV Live for the weekend Watch TV Out on the town for the weekend Watch TV Watch TV Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? Escape into your escapism Get lost in your escapism Trust in your escapism Get trapped into escapism Escape from your escapism Escape from your self made prison Escape the acceptance that's arisen Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? We're Drones Robotics Clones on antibiotics Zoned hypnotic Habitually ****** Artificially exotic Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? You're watching your *** life on Tv A package holiday - pretend to be free Post on Facebook how life should be Focus your kids on getting a C Lurching towards you - Hollow eyes Pale Gaunt - Fed on lies In systems that we all despise Because you sat at home on your own Or In a pub over grub Or on a phone having a moan Or a coffee shop pontificating Or a lecture cleverly debating Or an artists studio 'creating' But you didn't ******* do anything did you? You thought about it You talked about it You sat and maybe wrote about it But you actually DID nought about it Why does nobody do anything? Why does nobody do anything? What if we in our liberal pomposity Followed up our curiosity And put an end to a small atrocity Instead of deliberating the big ones Stop ******* telling people they're wrong and get off your **** and prove it. Do something.
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