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"ascendance" poems
sword-shaped wild iris leaves pierce the meadow sod, reaching outwards from cold reclusive shelter beneath native strawberry carpeted  repose juxtaposed  ―  smoke rises to  the  sun like the basal verdures of fleeting winter's escape; crawling up an invisible spiral staircase seeking the azure heavens r e n a s c e n c e a  nexus ― stormy winter’s windfall and,   irony of a wooden match, gathered winter tinder inflamed,   sacrificed to the heraldic spring skies of the begetter; just  like the  wistful  soul beheld a simple  man that impatiently rests on the threshold    of a dream,.. unnoticed by the billowing silence of evanescent winter exile: daydreaming a peaceful ascendance; dissipating puffs of smoke drifting  away unto the ether, weightless as light harlon rivers ... spring 1st, 2018
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Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 1:07 PM UTC
wild iris
*Elemental Metamorphosis & Transcendental Milestones, Sempiternal Origamis Of Her Temperamental Clones, Spiraling Perpetuities & Her Sacrosanct Fortitude, Procreating Tipsy Ruptures In Her Permeating Solitude, Perplexed Momentum & Her Outlandish Constellations, Nuclear Decay Of Her Masked Radiations, Verbal Shadows & Her Tranquil Ascendance, Encasing Her Tears In Liquefied Transcendence, Yearning Oddities & Entropic Oceans, Vitalizing Inexorable Emotions Into Phosphorescent Potions, An Hourglass Existence Of Her Fabricated Virility, Dwelling In Quantum Ascents Of Ardent Agility, Silver Ghosts Of Her Prismatic Abyss, Convicting Glass Houses In Her Ecstatic Bliss, Telepathic Shades & Hollow Palisades, Detrimental Novelists On Uncharted Crusades, Pernicious Scars In Her Profound Gaze, Erupting Genesis Inside Her Dimensional Maze, Perplexed Periphery & Digital Fictions, Annexed By Her Hourglass Depictions, Breakdown Sanity & Her Concealed Screams, Lifelike Dewdrops In Her Visionary Dreams, Satellite Searchlights & Love//Less Progenic Mutation, Paralyzed Sunlight Sparking Genetic Alteration, Monochromatic Streams & Cinematic Realms, Static Screams Of Her Toxic Schemes. - 05:43 AM -*
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Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 11:18 PM UTC
Elemental Metamorphosis & Transcendental Milestones
Nobility divine fills gaps of transcendence,     Soars to and from the throne heavenly, Exalts morals near the king of ascendance,     Patrolling the good, and sons of the seventy. A duty forgotten, replaced with dependence,     On prayers rarely heard, and logic of a herd - Divinity is far in absence; man in attendance,     The book is a third, and teachings are blurred. Andeliviuan corruption supposedly erased:     The creation rotten of Sariel, wanders gaily. The holy and fallen angel’s doing embraced,     By the clay beings caressing evil like a frailly. By God not, who from heaven him displaced.     Yet, the legacy of the wrong stands humanly, In Thailand, America, Palestine, and all graced -      A grace of sinfulness celestial and worldly.   Religion is the poor’s only ultimate truth,      the rich’s side hustle, and the rulers’ tool; It is the loss of power that defiles the sooth,     The one the poor has not, but does the fool. Robbers’ servants, bread crumbs consumers,     Toothless **** dogs, emaciated lost tramps, Little blind pawns, vultures’ puppets, tumours,     And wrenches they are, the upper hand’s lambs. If only Raguel’s judgements fall upon man,     Raphael’s punishment beautifies this existence, Gabriel’s wrath makes not all humans ane,     And Michael saves us, the Sarahs, in assistance. In the heart deepened with old repression,    That mounts with plenitude of filtered feels, Resides a universe yearning for expression,     In a meat clay who feeds on calories of meals. Man, in the genesis, in the light, in the dark,     In prosperity, in turmoil, triumphed with vices; vileness, abuse, wreckage is our sole mark,     On this planet whose population is in slices.
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Oct 21, 2022
Oct 21, 2022 at 5:18 AM UTC
Slices
Nobility divine fills gaps of transcendence,     Soars to and from the throne heavenly, Exalts morals near the king of ascendance,     Patrolling the good, and sons of the seventy. A duty forgotten, replaced with dependence,     On prayers rarely heard, and logic of a herd - Divinity is far in absence; man in attendance,     The book is a third, and teachings are blurred. Andeliviuan corruption supposedly erased:     The creation rotten of Sariel, wanders gaily. The holy and fallen angel’s doing embraced,     By the clay beings caressing evil like a frailly. By God not, who from heaven him displaced.     Yet, the legacy of the wrong stands humanly, In Thailand, America, Palestine, and all graced -      A grace of sinfulness celestial and worldly.   Religion is the poor’s only ultimate truth,      the rich’s side hustle, and the rulers’ tool; It is the loss of power that defiles the sooth,     The one the poor has not, but does the fool. Robbers’ servants, bread crumbs consumers,     Toothless **** dogs, emaciated lost tramps, Little blind pawns, vultures’ puppets, tumours,     And wrenches they are, the upper hand’s lambs. If only Raguel’s judgements fall upon man,     Raphael’s punishment beautifies this existence, Gabriel’s wrath makes not all humans ane,     And Michael saves us, the Sarahs, in assistance. In the heart deepened with old repression,    That mounts with plenitude of filtered feels, Resides a universe yearning for expression,     In a meat clay who feeds on calories of meals. Man, in the genesis, in the light, in the dark,     In prosperity, in turmoil, triumphed with vices; vileness, abuse, wreckage is our sole mark,     On this planet whose population is in slices.
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36
Well, what a week, full of revelation Enough to stir this talk of revolution Makes your hackles turn on end Then send you round the bend The southern gentry have found oil Right beneath their derriere boil Now most of us on this golden isle Need not worry about this pile Those who wear weekend country tweed, Built their fortunes from housing greed Have already decided That it will be one sided They’ll say it’s theirs, by rights And if we argue, will read our last rites The South will declare independence In certainty of their full ascendance Over the outer reaches of this nation They pounded into servitude, by taxation And if we have the nerve to debate, I’ll be bound They’ll leave it horded in the ground, Then blame the anti frackin’ hound Now I may need a political re - education In a 1984 establishment for rehabilitation But I can see it coming a five-nation island Southland, Wales, Scotland, N. Ireland, And the Detritus
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Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 5:27 PM UTC
Fracking Hell ... Devolution (But not as we know it!)
I believe we are of sound and worthy mind; That we might cast our constant glare back, Towards our own transgressions and Pretensious claims to ascendance. That we may reflect on our own fortune, Alive and affluent, rich in life and Experience ill afforded to our elders. Perhaps then we might pretend, If only for fleeting moments, That we are as deserving as we commonly believe. For we are nothing if not The cynical generation, born into A world so mature that we need be Nothing but children within it. We have no politics, no beliefs, no Drive to propel us into an existence of Grace and enlightenment. We scoff At signs of sentiment, we laugh At barefaced gesture and divulgence. We indulge in ceaseless pleasures and Live upon the surface of the shallows. Yet we forfeit the beauty of feeling, The release afforded by sublimity; We are afraid of what is bigger than us, And we respond with profane derision. I tire of popularity competitions, Of gossip and blunt innuendo, of Social ladders and picking up. I yearn, with nostalgia and music, for A time foreign to this weary soul, A time perhaps non-existent, when Such games were not all there was.
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Sep 25, 2011
Sep 25, 2011 at 4:09 AM UTC
The Cynical Generation
Today takes a bath in rain Feel it wash away my sins! Toady takes a bath in rain Feel it wash away my stains! Today takes a bath in rain Feel it wash away my ascendance! Today takes a bath in rain and rain instill gaiety in me!
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Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 2:17 PM UTC
Rain instill gaiety
Worry sets in when I've no contribution not already conceived into sweeter fruition by someone more clever succinct and brunette the picture of an artist in suffering and debt Hell, even when musing on futility the words lumber lacking all fluidity Meters much marked Rhymes relentlessly schemed Capering for couplets as yet still undreamed Why bother? I wonder Why scribble along and much melancholy for one hopeful song? Doubts in ascendance, my pen digs the earth to China if need be and the end of poem's worth.
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Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 11:22 PM UTC
Dig
*Spectral & Whites, She shoots liquid kryptonite, Forming civil twilights, Lighting up satellites, Effusive she moves in crowds, Vetting the loud, Entombing in her vortex clouds, Fiction stitched exclusive to her shroud, Translucent transcendence, Sinking in ascendance, Obscured abundance, Her celestial dependence, Mutating sacraments, Dissolving electrolytic laments, Decaying she resents, Her serene blood stains, Choking reckless intents, Torrential far cry, Of her desecrated lullabies, Edging serrated highs, Triggering sulphur lies, Profanity in her transmits, Photonic duality she emits, Fluttering in trance, Her psychopathic stance, Initiating empathetic dance, Seductive incandescence, Buffering her schizophrenic vehemence, Veiling the era of repentance, By unveiling spiritual severance, And pseudo sacrosanct irreverence, The future’s here, Nuclear souvenir, She past my prime, When the evidence realigned, Confiscating her downtime, She committed my crime, Make amends… We are designed to be outlived…. 03:22AM*
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Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 5:01 PM UTC
Spectral & Whites
Aristotle’s arrhythmic articulations Appeared too apologetic for Aphrodite's amusements Aroused by antisocial media’s alacritous abundance Amidst arteriosclerosis and amphibiously obeisant Ophiuchus Asclepius' ascendance was almost an abortion Arrested by Apollo’s amorous attempts at aphrodisia Ambidextrous Artemis’ androgynous appointments Awakened ancient antipathies accentuating allopathic artifacts Altercations arose among ambitious acolytes and Athena’s anorexic acidoses Awkward Adonis actively agonized by alarming aneurysms Allowed Antigone’s ambivalent armistice an aperture of acceptance   Appointing an ambiguously appealing additive to the Argonauts An anaerobic Acropolis arose amidst ********** asphyxiations As Amazonian armpit hair advocates approved artificial insemination
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Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 8:33 PM UTC
Anthropic Pathologies from Olympus to the Acropolis (allegorically incorrect)
I know I’ve been away For a little while I’d like to tell myself to bring it back But let me stay a little bit unconquerable A little piece of me, a piece of you All tangled up and hidden away Quiet ascendance   Finding what my former self had tangled up In savage, bitter knots of Doubt and fear Unraveled now by the acceptance Sweet ascendance Leaving me naked now in my reflections But the less I hide, the less you see And the more I come to relish in that victory
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Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 8:17 PM UTC
Ascendance
Awakened and upsized Macaques enclosed in plastics Blown like a fainted paper A ladder presents in heights As the stamina builds to rise The climb to the sky scrapper Should we run to the utmost Drag each other to ascendance Hunt our vulnerabilities and nurse them My love carry our load to paradise These road of ours to hold and touch Heighten us so we light the city streets Feel my pulse throbbing for you As the sun scorch and the wind blows Darling, I will wait for you day after day
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May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 4:41 PM UTC
Road to Paradise
A primordial spark beckons consciousness to forge its way Sensations so vivid breathing color into his gray The spiral of change leading into ascendance of the prey He welcomes this radiant spectrum of life to stay Paths collide and intertwine Follow and he swears to make you shine Aiming for the peak where only gods dine At grandeur’s frontier, shadows and doubts quietly align Within his mind, a battle of virtue and vice, always in clash Glimpses of what should be sheer happiness pass in a flash Whilst occupied with the violence, the world offered him more than any hoard of cash Help him find a way to let his weary mind refresh It seems he wrote of this tale a hundred times before No less expected of a man bruised at his core He coaxes life for a dance once more Haunted by his own ghost, he’ll never be alone on the dancefloor Countless quests, yet the golden apple remains out of sight Dwelling in the lust for that which brings naught but blight He could be crowned in gold, raised to a dazzling height He could be a rich man, if only he’d learn what is worth the fight
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May 30, 2025
May 30, 2025 at 10:28 AM UTC
He could be a rich man
I drank deep of the pink heads. I let the whiteness of the petal shake my face from the day. The wind came cold from the basin, sweeping my hair into dusk shapes. The jealous magnolia branch, heavy with wax, was drunk with ascendance. In all of this I felt the wildness crawling in me. It longed for you. When I drank deep of the pink heads - I thought only of your name.
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Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 8:03 PM UTC
Cherry Blossoms
We knew T-Rex from its tiny claws Its hungry mouth, its toothy jaws. But how can we assess T-Rump When all our data’s from a stump And weekly polls that flinch and jump? The answer’s lying deep below Perhaps with Edgar Allen Poe Whose poetry is dark and slow. A creature walking o’er the earth In privilege stretching back to birth That claims ascendance overall And loves to brag and boast and brawl And sometimes recoils, sometimes howls (One sometimes wonders at its bowels— When watching active ****** scowls.) T-Rump is marching to consume What’s going on in the newsroom And feeds on minor predators, (Ignoring its own creditors). It likes to crouch and dance and pose While speaking in a broken prose And often wrinkling up its nose At anything that might oppose Or even worse, that might expose, Its streak of show-and-tell sideshows. Alas when sizing up T-Rump One hits a show-and-tell speed bump That’s not about its topmost clump Or its eternal ****** frump. We know, somehow, we’re each a chump In thinking that there was an ump Who’d put things on the ump and ump And so we lazed, and scrimped and scrumped Instead of what we’d need to do— To find what’s cleanly new and true, And redirect our Waterloo Away from its own cancerous lump And toward a far less spurious zoo. In other words, to dump T-Rump!
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Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 9:16 AM UTC
Tyrannosaurus-Rump
Some brothers step on other siblings to survive Morals fall to dirt like the raindrops from the skys Unseen and left unfelt they sit and rot with hate and vengeance Longing for the day they gain revenge with their ascendance Peace is never felt when family leaves family in pieces Strongest of the strong crippled as money is their weakness What if someone stepped on the faces of those you eat with Would you draw your blade? Would you slice away until their soul is slain and caved? Would you jump for joy as a mother has lost their child? Returning home with blood on your body from actions vile.. Not a good look Staring at the clouds Demons in the shade Evade in smokey shroud I see them all the time They don't attack out loud Their tactics soaked in grime They make their brothers proud The speed is not sublime He could've saw it coming Too focused on his needs Blades soaked in blood Brothers possessed by greed..
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Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC
Hungry
I'm not always smoothly gliding along At times the Tempest catches my wings in it's Turbulence I'm accommodating to these warring winds giving in to flip, flop, spin, drop until a pocket opens up to relieve me. I'll plan for descent when I feel to weary for the sky's macabre mood To find a perch protected with plentiful foliage, embrace the day on level ground calling out to find another near who would like to share my company. We could look upon the Earthen grounds, take interest in the World around, listening to all the sounds, add our Voice to the Symphony if so inclined to join in. My Call has gone unanswered as of yet, my Thoughts have wandered off to other things, wait the day, take a rest, for when the hour comes to find the Sky has calmed~My Wings will shake away the dust of stillness, rising in the calm resistance of Air and Wing, working perfectly together, gracefully assisting my Flight's Ascendance.
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May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 6:22 PM UTC
A Bird Day
Doors of old mahogany creak as they swing upon their hinges, Granting entrance into an extravagant library now devoid of life, dusty, and bleak. Shelves tower and line the walls, brimming with books, new and antique, Titles familiar, forgotten, and from days of yore, A lonely, forsaken trove of lore. But though these tomes now lie abandoned, Power still hums in the cracks of this place; From atop the room's stone spiral staircase, Soft sounds drift down from the floor above. Ascendance reveals a circular room, Much like below, but here books fly - The fallen volumes that spot the ground Hover, float and flap leather-bound pages; A broom sweeps of its own accord, And the faintest tune of music plays..
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Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 10:24 PM UTC
Incanter's Library
Creating dysfunctional remembrance Hitherto unknown, marking ascendance, Jeopardize a lifelong lust, Miscellaneous, all but dust, The thoughts envisioned in my marrow, I see you walking in dreams so shallow, I speak to you in low frequency words, Unsurprisingly, I am unheard, Not your fault, no twisted contention, I just but wish a self reinvention, Remaining the same, self pride became, footholds of faults, my held horses lame, ambisinister doubts of recompense Broken grout, life’s lost pretense, No meaning present or ever held, The roses of bloodletting never smelled, The darkest dreary dreadful days Lay waste, with which I wilt away, Cryptic omnipresence arisen in me, Please help me find shores of Galilee, As abysmal as I love to remain, I do admire occasional refrain, Red lips upon mine, a cold, dead kiss, Please I beg, just spare me this, Necrotic appendages, body failing me, Last whispers are sand grinding seas, No depth, no fathom, nothing at all, A muse’s voice begins to call, What must I suffer willingly To see what I see as it should be, What extent of path be trod, Before I may lay down to rot, Wherefore are all aphorisms, All but gone, save cynicism, I poke and **** til festers bleed, I blind my eyes til I can’t see, What ******* mess have I made of me, What height must I plummet before I’m free?
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Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 8:05 PM UTC
Falling.
December, a vision, A most wise decision, I believe a derision Left us all alone, Nothing between us, No one could have seen us, This event completes us And leads us along, My mind was so clouded And as we were shrouded, The rest left confounded And sent to atone, To seek willing penance, To break their dependence To find our ascendance An encompassing throne, I seek, we yet make it, Deciding to break it, Knowing not what’s at stake yet, We sought a true home. But finding revulsion Furthered compulsion Our hearts’ errosion A broken gramaphone. No memory corrected, No statue erected We became infected With our words in tone, I looked o'er shoulder, No longer could hold her, Or either composure, Left a haunting moan. Seeing not corrected, My soul now indebted, Forever inspected, Silencing a groan, I walked as if courted, My love, I aborted, To see you contorted, My dear, so distorted, I find self remorseless Morbid, forsworn it, Disgusting discourses, All else but abhor it, It seems so alluring, Though mildly incurring, All but securing A life worth enduring, I’d say it was the last thing that I said in this world, But that’s just a paradox, and a lie beyond that.
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Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 8:07 PM UTC
A Paradox And A Lie.
The sky descends into horizon This eve souls pass through the membrane of ticking time thin as a needle kneeded through ancient quilt sewn by Archimedes Plato Blake Oratio Isis those colossi greasing universe’s eternal clock, to that recital played unseen beyond vision impalpable to senses not yet sharpened by ascendance
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Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 10:45 AM UTC
Colossi
Along the shore I walked under the inky sky waves crashed around me A  sound of thousand hands clapping at once over and over. And the whoosh of the spreading sea cool on my feet washing away the footprints of my past in the wet sand. Must have walked long feel tired now. Distant thoughts and memories spindle away gossamer threads fading from sight. I see now a shimmer yes, a beacon of hope. Trudge on in the gathering light With a promise to rest a while, renew my strength at the end of it. The shadows dance and give way I see in its ascendance A sunlit path. I open my eyes and feel the warmth of the rising sun on my face through the window. And the birds sing on a spring morning. Another day has begun.
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Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
The first light
If I am not, then what am I? what kind of guy? what man? Perception, only takes me to what man I could be and what I am not. I can trot out the old line that time gives me no time to be me but you can see the excuse, see me hanging loose, and well you know, that it's just a ruse that I use. I confuse the answer I look for, with beer in the wine store. What man am I, that I cannot stay dry? Dependence, my star in the ascendance, but my future was told, when men older than me said, one day I'd get old, they were right. I look now in the somehow and ask why am I here? and if I am not then what has this man got but tomorrow, to bury his head in a day filled with sorrow. what kind of man is that?
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Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
jumping the tracks
Why do we choose to live life by others rules, following everything we were taught in schools, being herded through life like a pack of mules, it is as if we have grown to accept our dependence. On T.V. shows about children we don't know, to the latest celebrity caught with a nose full of blow, we don't realize our minds being molded like dough, as shadows prohibit our ascendance. But we can fight this evil that has entered our brains, and relinquish ourselves from societies chains, let the blood run free as it does in your veins, and no longer live your life as if in attendance.
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Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 1:59 AM UTC
To break free
two lovers intoxicated with pride and vengeance venomous blood spilled in our battle for ascendance.
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Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 10:57 AM UTC
Our reputation