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1214

We introduce ourselves
To Planets and to Flowers
But with ourselves
Have etiquettes
Embarrassments
And awes
guy scutellaro Aug 2018
She has make up on and her face looks pretty. Kathleen blows out the match and looks up.

"Hello Kate," Jack says and sits down.

"My name isn't Kate. It's Kathleen." The bourbon makes Kathleen feel confident. "Hello, Dell," She says mockingly. "You know Sue worships your ***. She just loves to call you, Dell. She thinks Dell is such a **** name." Kathleen takes a last drag on her cigarette and rubs it out in the ash tray. What should I call you?"

"How about, Darling?"

She looks up from the whiskey glass she is fondling in her slim hands. "Hello, Jack, Darling." Her soft, deep voice whispers accenting his name and the word, Darlin.

Kathleen crosses her legs and the black dress rides up to the middle of her thigh.

Jack glances at the milky white flesh between the blue ***** hose and the hem of her dress. She is drunk, but Dell does not care. He leans forward. "Do you wanna dance?"

"But no one else is dancing."

"Well, we could go to the beach and walk along the sand."

"It's 20 degrees out there." She takes the glass and swallows the last of the whiskey. "We'll freeze."

"I'll keep you warm."

In the other room the kitchen door swings open as Paul Keater and Bob O'Malley come rushing out, talking, laughing and rubbing their noses.

"Come let's dance." says Kathleen.

Jack stands up and takes her hand. She rises and as he draws her close her ******* flatten out against his chest. Jack feels her heart thumping.

Across the smoke filled crowded room, the bride is cutting the wedding cake. "That's a beautiful wedding gown." Kathleen tells Jack as he moves her around the ***** floor in and out of the circles of light cast by the overhead lamps. " Theresa looks beautiful."

"So do you." Jack holds her tighter.

"Do you really think so?" Kathleen is flattered. She is perpetually surprised if some one thinks she is pretty.

"I do," He says with sincerity.

She rests her head on Delleto's shoulder. The man with the bruised face disturbs Kathleen.

Most men like to talk about themselves. They have a need to tell what they own or what they can do well. They need to impress and when Kathleen is with one of her men he genuinely awes her.

Lifting her head off of his shoulder, "Does your face hurt?"

"Only when I laugh or cry," he says as he moves Kathleen in and out of the circles of light.

"Jack Delleto has anyone ever told you, your a strange man?"

"Just my mother."

"Did you win?"

"What does it matter? Sometimes tryin is more important. Not giving up. "

"you lost."

"Yeah."

" Kate, what's important to you?"

Kathleen raises her head off of his shoulder to look up at him. "I don't want to depend on welfare and other people and I want to send my son to college. But most of all I want a home." She rests her cheek against his. I lived in foster homes all my life and I always knew one day I'd have to leave.

"Do you know the difference between a house and a home."

Jack thinks for a moment, "No, I' don't."

And her voice is a roaring whisper in his ear.

"LOVE."

The song comes to an end. Kathleen takes a cigarette from the pack on the table and puts it to her lips.

Jack strikes a match and the light flickers in her eyes. "Maybe, sometimes you'll tell me about your home."

"Do you want me too?" She leans forward and puts the cigarette to the flame. The flame flickering in her eyes.

"Yeah." Jack blows out the match.
Tea Nov 2013
Letter to the boy who never writes inked words that spell out   I   love   you. But still his ink bleeds in ways I have never seen and it captivates the art inside me. The words them self may not be saying what I wish to hear but the portrait drawn in each letter is creating a beautiful big picture. I am glad you let a lovely spirit bring you to rainbows found in music that spills from your room. You see beauty everywhere and always point it out
I standing right beside you and  I can’t help but feel left out
So I see the fall and all you awes and then I look inside of me
Look hard
Alone and
Scrutinize myself
So here are something s
For between… just you and me

1)When I blush it may not be the subtle pastel you would choose,
But it blossoms on my cheek the color lovely. Crimson colored glasses show all my venerability, making me something authentic. And I like it most days. You can choose to hide your face, to look away but I love the way I am burning.You can't choose my pink or pick it.It is the color it is… well its authentic

2) I care about others to the point of it being a sickness. I have numb hands because anxiety acts in quickness, just like my reactions I am real, emotional and passionate. I see my beauty now and think you can’t have it. Even if I agree about all the other beauties you refuse to see me, and I am lovely, bright, I fit my hands just right, my legs are long and strong and remind me that my feet are my wind, a feather taking me to every place I have ever been and will be.


3) When you talk your words form poetry, but you can give up any time to get to know me, and I’m a piece of art. My colors are what words were made for. My beauty bending the conceptual understanding of language and a word itself. My eyes at any point in time saying more than your fingers ever could, slowly typing out word that beat out simple meaning. Tears fall from me heavy as bricks falling from a height, weighed down with the sorrow picked up through my life.

4) Im not bitter because you didn’t think I was hot. Because shallow boys make me their toy and they all want to play. And that makes me bitter and fules me with hate.  It was nice to find someone who cared a little more, who knew there were four letters to my name. who talked and shared interests. Only bitter now because you like my inside colors, but you didn’t think I was pretty enough to paint. And the deeper pool really was just vain. Tipping at the edge I am just pulled down the drain.

5) Is a secret. I use to hate my smile; my teeth are far from perfect. People were mean, you can say anything about it and I can say I have heard it. Red lipstick is my purple hard. Showing I made it through something mean and mad, perhaps I wish I hadntnt but I had and this is my prize. This is the honorable reminded I wear it with pride. Beaming, my red lips framing what had held me back from smiling for years. And I smile from ear to ear its beautiful.

6) A confession, I hate that you don’t see me, but I love what I see myself. I wish your hand writing wasn’t more appealing than the empty echo of what they tell.
So here is a letter to a boy, who writes in lovely scroll. Who couldn’t love me, if he knew me all. Simply said, I hope you find someone right, not me ever, not me tonight. Bitter without the sweet. To the boy who only writes but doesn't read, who expresses but just cant see, to the other lovely soul confused by all the color... I just needed to write you one last letter.
Praveen M N Mar 2016
As the darkness spreads
like a dark silk blanket,
I feel her sleeping
like a baby all scarlet

In me burns a flame
when i find her so close,
Then a quiver on her lips
like the winds on a rose..

A smile so sweet spreads
across her face,
My heart skips a beat and
awes in amaze.

A gaze upon me,
with a twinkle in her eye,
There's so much to say
but all i do is sigh

An innocent playful strand
runs loose astray,
jealous as i am from
where restless i lay.

Touch her, i could,
coz she sleeps on my arm
wake her up, i might
with the touch of my palm.

The moonlight shining
on her smooth soft skin,
I slowly pull out the knot
held up by the pin

The feel of her slipping hair
so soft against my cheek,
The sweet scent of jasmine
makes me so meek.

Like a floating boat i feel
in the dark sweet scent
I drown into my sleep
with a feeling all spent !
While my sad Muse the darkest Covert Sought,
To give a loose to Melancholy Thought;
Opprest, and sighing with the Heavy Weight
Of an Unhappy dear Lov'd Monarch's Fate;
A lone retreat, on Thames's Brink she found,
With Murmering Osiers fring'd, and bending Willows Crown'd,
Thro' the thick Shade cou'd dart no Chearful Ray,
Nature dwelt here as in disdain of Day:
Content, and Pleas'd with Nobler Solitude,
No Wood-Gods, Fawns, nor Loves did here Intrude,

Nor Nests for wanton Birds, the Glade allows;
Scarce the soft Winds were heard amongst the Boughs.
While thus She lay resolv'd to tune no more
Her fruitless Songs on Brittains Faithless Shore,
All on a suddain thro' the Woods there Rung,
Loud Sounds of Joy that Jo Peans Sung.
Maria! Blest Maria! was the Theam,
Great Brittains happy Genius, and her Queen.

The River Nimphs their Crystal Courts forsake,
Curl their Blew Locks, and Shelly Trumpets take:

And the surprising News along the Shore,
In raptur'd Songs the wondring Virgins bore;
Whilst Mourning Eccho now forgot her Sighs,
And sung the new taught Anthem to the Skyes.
All things in Nature, a New Face put on,
Thames with Harmonious Purlings glides along,
And tells her Ravisht Banks, she lately bore
A Prize more great than all her hidden Store,
Or all the Sun it self e're saw before.

The brooding Spring, her Fragrant Bloom sent out,

Scattering her early Perfumes round about;
No longer waits the Lasie teeming Hours,
But e're her time produc'd her Oderous Flowers;
Maria's Eyes Anticipate the May,
And Life inspir'd beyond the God of Day.
The Muses all upon this Theam Divine,
Tun'd their best Lays, the Muses all, but mine,
Sullen with Stubborn Loyalty she lay,
And saw the World its eager Homage pay,
While Heav'n and Earth on the new Scene lookt gay.

But Oh! What Human Fortitude can be
Sufficient to Resist a Deity?
Even our Allegiance here, too feebly pleads,
The Change in so Divine a Form perswades;
Maria with the Sun has equal Force,
No Opposition stops her Glorious Course,
Her pointed Beams thro' all a passage find,
And fix their Rays Triumphant in the Mind.
And now I wish'd among the Crouds to Adore,
And constant wishing did increase my Power;

From every thought a New-born Reason came
Which fortifyed by bright Maria's Fame,
Inspir'd My Genious with new Life and Flame,
And thou, Great Lord, of all my Vows, permit
My Muse who never fail'd Obedience yet,
To pay her Tribute at Marias Feet,
Maria so Divine a part of You,
Let me be Just -- but Just with Honour too.

Resolv'd, She join'd her Chorus with the Throng,
And to the listning Groves Marias Vertues Sung;

Maria all Inchanting, Gay, and Young,
All Hail Illustrious Daughter of a King,
Shining without, and Glorious all within,
VVhose Eyes beyond your scantier Power give Laws,
Command the VVord, and justifie the Cause;
Nor to secure your Empire needs more Arms
Than your resistless, and all Conquering Charms;
Minerva Thus alone, Old Troy Sustain'd,
Whilst her Blest Image with three Gods remain'd;
But Oh! your Form and Manner to relate,

The Envying Fair as soon may Imitate,
'Tis all Engaging Sweet, 'tis all Surprising Great;
A thousand Beauties Triumph in your Air,
Like those of soft Young Loves your Smiles appear,
And to th'Ungarded Hearts, as dangerous are:
All Natures Charms are open'd in your Face,
You Look, you Talk, with more than Human Grace;

All that is Wit, all that is Eloquence.
The Births of finest Thought and Noblest Sense,
Easie and Natural from your Language break,

And 'tis Eternal Musick when you speak;
Thro' all no formal Nicety is seen,
But Free and Generous your Majestick Meen,
In every Motion, every Part a Queen;
All that is Great and Lovely in the ***,
Heav'n did in this One Glorious Wonder fix,
Apellis thus to dress the Queen of Love,
Rob'd the whole Race, a Goddess to improve.
Yet if with Sighs we View that Lovely Face,
And all the Lines of your great Father's Trace,

Your Vertues should forgive, while we adore
That Face that Awes, and Charms our Hearts the more;
But if the Monarch in your Looks we find,
Behold him yet more glorious in your Mind;
'Tis there His God-like Attributes we see.
A Gratious Sweetness, Affability,
A Tender Mercy and True Piety;
And Vertues even sufficient to Attone
For all the Ills the Ungrateful VVorld has done,
Where several Factions, several Intrests sway,
And that is still it'h Right who gains the Day;
How e're they differ, this they all must grant,
Your Form and Mind, no One Perfection want,
Without all Angel, and within all Saint.

The Murmering World till now divided lay,
Vainly debating whom they shou'd Obey,
Till You Great Cesar's Off-spring blest our Isle,
The differing Multitudes to Reconcile;
Thus Stiff-neckt Israel in defiance stood,
Till they beheld the Prophet of their God;

Who from the Mount with dazling brightness came,
And Eyes all shining with Celestial Flame;
Whose Awful Looks, dispel'd each Rebel Thought,
And to a Just Compliance, the wilde Nations brought.
Emily Chambers Apr 2016
Womanhood

In my ever eternal fight between
Pain and rapid mood swings
I have learned to accept
What I have been given by my mother.

Womanhood

In my ever insulting fight between
Objectification and misunderstanding
I have come to understand
"My body is a temple"
Is not a complement but an insult.

Womanhood

As my hair grows longer and longer
And I cut it shorter and shorter
And people tell me to "look more feminine"
I can't help but dress "more masculine."

Womanhood

Because I have to accentuate my assets
With tight jeans and skinny dresses
And if I forget a push-up bra
"It's a boy" jokes are made.

Womanhood

Because my knowledge of cars
And my firm hand shake
Awes men and makes them test me
Instead of conversing with me and moving on with their day

Womanhood

Because I am scared to leave the house by myself
And my father's overbearing protection
Instead of believing I can protect myself
In any given situation

Womanhood

Because my brother can go out whenever he wants
And can curse like a sailor
But I have to be a sweet southern belle
And answer a million and one questions just to take a walk

Womanhood

Because we have to justify ourselves
Because guys have to be perfect in the eyes of "feminists"
Because all of this bullsh!t has gone over the edge.

Womanhood

I can't call myself a feminist
And I sure ain't a misogynist
I'm just trying to scrape by
Just trying to get through this trying

Womanhood
This is my first slam poem that I decided to write out. Started it a while ago and I think I've gotten everything I wanted to emphasize down.
Janessa Luna Sep 2013
Don't let that name part those sweet lips again
A perfection in a perfection is impossible
Unless it is I
How can you not see it?
Every time you speak of her perfection, I look at yours
You say cute as if a puppy following your every step
Am I only a sister to you
A foe?
I can't help but look you down and feel anxiety
I can't help but look over any flaws
For it seems I take all of your imperfection
I feel so awkward around you
Only because I feel everything about to burst
Only because I know you may not ever feel the same
Only because when you speak her name I see your face brighten
That is what kills me
Every faint sigh
Every sad conversation to which I want to kiss those words away
Wrapping around you
Bid All Sorrowful Things Away!
Not knowing what I wish
For you put me in a realm of idiocy
I want that touch of your warm hands on my burning skin
Oh! Just that sighing aching thought of loosing you
If only you knew
I want to lock you away in my heart
To tell you dreams are only dreams
To lie to you and say I am fine
Kills me even more
My old soul and dying heart
Being left for dead from the sound of your voice
Please!Just whisper the word fair mind
For thy lady cannot know.
Her beauty to fragile
Her heart to kind to even spare me but a mere couple words
To even gaze into my eyes
For she pumps my blood
She fills my steaming ecstasy
Don't smile with my thoughts running a muck
Don't sound so happy when you are speaking her name
That sound is poison to me
Dripping with every syllable into my chest
Let's just run away
You have already taken my soul
Take my lonely body with you
Why must being so young hurt so bad?
But feel so good?
Remembering the dreams of peace
And love
And rock and roll
And of me getting you for once
naked in a field of flowers
Wait? You say
For you to stop loving this?
For me to get your broken heart after leaving her?
What is cute?
Constant thoughts about how it will never be
Your awes every time I say a word sounds so pathetic
So sarcastic into another way of saying you don't care
Just stop the nonsense and keep calling my name
I want to hear perfection
Like I think of you
I want to get hugs like you give everyone else
I want to feel your touch
I want to call you mine
And show how much I love you in front of the world
In front of your cruel relative blood
What is this?
I have not any words to tell you in person
For fulling knowing it is i ?
Or it is you, lady, the one I love dearly
I don't want to loose this friendship as I lost my heart to you
So just say my name
**** me over and over
The thing you are so good at doing
Keep on introducing me to other lovers of yours
Keep burning me with those sad words
Bury me
Bury me in my own blood
In the blood of your perfection
For I am cursed to never grasp love
And always grasp friendship
Thy  beauty  and splendor
Awes  my   spirit
Jealousy creeps in slowly…

Memories of old  love days  
Awakens  the  inner  soul
Heart sighs painfully…
And I wonder,  What’ll I do to
Leave as token for my eternal love
                 *
High-mindedness, a jealousy for good,
A loving-kindness for the great man's fame,
Dwells here and there with people of no name,
In noisome alley, and in pathless wood:
And where we think the truth least understood,
Oft may be found a "singleness of aim,"
That ought to frighten into hooded shame
A money-mongering, pitiable brood.
How glorious this affection for the cause
Of steadfast genius, toiling gallantly!
What when a stout unbending champion awes
Envy and malice to their native sty?
Unnumbered souls breathe out a still applause,
Proud to behold him in his country's eye.
Summer pleasures they are gone like to visions every one
And the cloudy days of autumn and of winter cometh on
I tried to call them back but unbidden they are gone
Far away from heart and eye and for ever far away
Dear heart and can it be that such raptures meet decay
I thought them all eternal when by Langley Bush I lay
I thought them joys eternal when I used to shout and play
On its bank at ‘clink and bandy’ ‘chock’ and ‘taw’ and
    ducking stone
Where silence sitteth now on the wild heath as her own
Like a ruin of the past all alone

When I used to lie and sing by old eastwells boiling spring
When I used to tie the willow boughs together for a ’swing’
And fish with crooked pins and thread and never catch a
    thing
With heart just like a feather—now as heavy as a stone
When beneath old lea close oak I the bottom branches broke
To make our harvest cart like so many working folk
And then to cut a straw at the brook to have a soak
O I never dreamed of parting or that trouble had a sting
Or that pleasures like a flock of birds would ever take to
    wing
Leaving nothing but a little naked spring

When jumping time away on old cross berry way
And eating awes like sugar plumbs ere they had lost the may
And skipping like a leveret before the peep of day
On the rolly polly up and downs of pleasant swordy well
When in round oaks narrow lane as the south got black again
We sought the hollow ash that was shelter from the rain
With our pockets full of peas we had stolen from the grain
How delicious was the dinner time on such a showry day
O words are poor receipts for what time hath stole away
The ancient pulpit trees and the play

When for school oer ‘little field’ with its brook and wooden
    brig
Where I swaggered like a man though I was not half so big
While I held my little plough though twas but a willow twig
And drove my team along made of nothing but a name
‘Gee hep’ and ‘hoit’ and ‘woi’—O I never call to mind
These pleasant names of places but I leave a sigh behind
While I see the little mouldywharps hang sweeing to the wind
On the only aged willow that in all the field remains
And nature hides her face where theyre sweeing in their
    chains
And in a silent murmuring complains

Here was commons for the hills where they seek for
    freedom still
Though every commons gone and though traps are set to ****
The little homeless miners—O it turns my ***** chill
When I think of old ’sneap green’ puddocks nook and hilly
    snow
Where bramble bushes grew and the daisy gemmed in dew
And the hills of silken grass like to cushions to the view
When we threw the pissmire crumbs when we’s nothing
    else to do
All leveled like a desert by the never weary plough
All vanished like the sun where that cloud is passing now
All settled here for ever on its brow

I never thought that joys would run away from boys
Or that boys would change their minds and forsake such
    summer joys
But alack I never dreamed that the world had other toys
To petrify first feelings like the fable into stone
Till I found the pleasure past and a winter come at last
Then the fields were sudden bare and the sky got overcast
And boyhoods pleasing haunts like a blossom in the blast
Was shrivelled to a withered **** and trampled down and
    done
Till vanished was the morning spring and set that summer
    sun
And winter fought her battle strife and won

By Langley bush I roam but the bush hath left its hill
On cowper green I stray tis a desert strange and chill
And spreading lea close oak ere decay had penned its will
To the axe of the spoiler and self interest fell a prey
And cross berry way and old round oaks narrow lane
With its hollow trees like pulpits I shall never see again
Inclosure like a Buonaparte let not a thing remain
It levelled every bush and tree and levelled every hill
And hung the moles for traitors—though the brook is
    running still
It runs a naked brook cold and chill

O had I known as then joy had left the paths of men
I had watched her night and day besure and never slept agen
And when she turned to go O I’d caught her mantle then
And wooed her like a lover by my lonely side to stay
Aye knelt and worshipped on as love in beautys bower
And clung upon her smiles as a bee upon her flower
And gave her heart my poesys all cropt in a sunny hour
As keepsakes and pledges to fade away
But love never heeded to treasure up the may
So it went the comon road with decay
gd Dec 2013
We used to be so honest,
so pure,
so oblivious
and full of life.

Our love became the definition of sunrise awes,
the sweet smell of fresh rain,
the echo of a child's laugh and
the first flight of a newborn bird.

We became the melancholy
of naive endeavours
wrapped in raw emotions.
Our love was real; factual, in fact and

I refuse to believe any less.
But that has all dissolved now;
disintegrated with the wind,
set with the sun,

thundered the clouds
with fearful flashes of dangerous light
and whimpered every soul
who has lost something they've loved.

We are no longer built on sweet smiles
or tempted impulses;
we are the epitome of sulking stares
and avoiding glances.

We are civil, but we are also tense.
We are the tightness of our muscles
in this predicament of uncertainty.
And that is what we've become:

completely and utterly uncertain,

which is quite contradictory
to the confidence of our emotions
trailing back to the months before.
We are touch, but be are also sight and scent.

We are all the senses masked by sweet pride.
We are a tempest of emotions
dancing to the rhythm
of our eternally thriving hearts.

And though we are inevitably wrong,
moving to different beats of similar drums,
our recital of pirouettes has managed
to create something beautiful.

- g.d.
The terracotta shines in the westerly sun
when the man and the woman
fly on the temple courtyard
on the wings of time.

She touches the sculptured kiss
He stares at the ample breast
She blushes at the frozen mount
He awes at the curve and crest
She feels a longing to be his
He wishes seizing her for a kiss.

Shadows grow long on the burnt clays,

time to go separate ways.
Janessa Luna Jan 2014
Body against my aching bones.
Breath I've waited so long to feel whispering down my neck sweetly.
Stuck scents
Warm lips, heavy hands.
Under nights sheets I forget everything.
I forget how badly i was breaking
I forgot how long you knew My heart ached for you
I forgot how much i knew down inside that you would take anyones love besides from mine.
I forgot
because
I need you.
Sweet lady, dripping in life
If you only knew
Through the cold nights, alone
I think of you, filling me up to the brink.
I hear your body and melt to nothing
Love!
The word so often used but never knowing fully
Dying
You don't know, nor understand.
That without you here, i can barely breathe.
After seeing your face today
dark
pale
You granted me no smile
No laughter
Even your pitiful Awes hurt.
My poems, my music
Everything sounds so stupid now.
Pointless.
Empty.
Because all i keep hearing is your voice
All i keep thinking about
Long conversations
Wrapping your arms around me every day.
I need that again.
I can wait longer.
I feel almost crazy.
Being this way.
I know what it is.
The love throbbing through me.
How dumb are you?
Still not seeing that i love you so **** much that i could cry for hours and still not get everything out.
Perfect to others, but to you.
Nothing.
Nothing but a common friend.
I fret thinking what I'm doing wrong.
What I'm not doing right.
Then sit emotionless, wondering why Someone
Someone who has never even had an inch of love for me in this world filled of billions
Someone who will possibly never feel the same for me
Someone who sees me as just.
As just another person just passing through.
I could care about
love
adore
need being there.
They say the first one hurts.
Then i think back to that night.
You still felt nothing.
I feel pathetic.
I feel stupid.
I feel so much.
I dont even know what to do, or say to you.
You act like you just want me to leave.
So hard explaining to you that i can't
so i write stupid horrible poems about love.
"Love"
What is love?
Something red?
Blue?
Love is everything
every piece
every smile
every hug
every song
Love is you.
This is not my usual work. Whatever that is. It was more of a rant than one of my poems. But what is a "right poem"? A rant about my first love. Love is a very Stressed word now. But only few truly know the meaning. Only few can, have, will experience. Love is a very strong word to me, that i use often. Only since now i truly feel it for someone, even if the person doesn't feel the same. Excuse my ranting. Enjoy love...and pain.
Sean Yessayan Apr 2012
As I watch the sky’s canvas change
I begin to think of the painter.
That one who is watching the same elsewhere,
and what he might think of such a scene.

Sitting, he would be looking out watching the sky’s stage alter,
painting gardens’ clouds, each colored different, span silver through red;
switching-- torn between red roses, white lilies, or orange tulips--
forming the garden's space, quickly. The eve’s sun dips down gently,
giving way as blue hues ascend opposite that orb’s retreat.
Envious, Sun lets Moon's beauty pull lovingly over him.
Nature’s nocturnal chorus singing, lulling its audience.
The bittersweet dark—another day, the painting not quite done,
put to sleep. The silent din engulfing his mind’s empty thought—
darkness switching on that light which calms artists’ creative springs.

“Light Regardless of its source—may it be pure
as the sun’s rays, or some modern substitute—
has some aesthetic quality. I’m not sure,
however, where from the light best contributes.
Is beauty derived by where the light emits?
Or is it enlightened by where the ray hits?”

He began mulling this thought over; turning it over and over—questions born.
A discource of such phenomena will show a thought forming--
nay, a riddle; with answers hiding, not wanting to be known:

“Is it the sunset’s orange and red that awes,
or the blueing clouds opposite that cause pause?”
The dams holding thought buckle; ideas, questions flood the bard’s mind.

“Is a smile’s worth found in its owner’s mouth,
or the ensuing grin, no longer pout?”
Plain idea, now broad. “Because a smile can be contagious…

“Is the eloquence of a speech seen as art,
or inspiration now gained to do one’s part?”
Words, an entity with power, reign over—the poet awakes.

“Is a poem’s verse the beauty of the bard,
Or diction plied with inferred worth— it’s guard?”
That ability permits the ineffable to be explained.

Eyes adjust to the sun’s speed—now energy and courage’s built--
awakes from that swoon. “The slothful lovers stay behind,” thought Sun,
“Neglect not that flight presented, which taken, betters the will:
'Brighten the world.' That dark denizen inspires warmth in me.”
The sun’s rise concludes those thoughts studied the night before-
grabbing his brush, thinks: “En Guarde stubborn canvas, my mind’s at ease.”
Vitality-- flying wild thoughts which emerge--decides
what key his baton should direct them, either the drawn sun’s source
or the face which welcome’s its colors being exemplified.

After a minute of looking I turn my gaze,
happy to leave that place .
Knowing full well in a full day
I’ll have this dream occur once more.
That daily walk, whose length directs my drifting thoughts,
rotates the sets of beauties dreamt, each fresh from a growing list long as time.
Eliza May 2014
Write me a poem
Of the wonders and awes
Of loving and being loved.
Write me a poem
Of hummingbirds
Of sirens and beating hearts.
Write me a poem
Of how the sun
Compliments my eyes
Write me a poem
Of how like the moon
I illuminate the night sky.

Don't write me a song
Don't write me a letter
Why are you being so obscure?
Write me a poem
Write me your answer
Don't leave me with an
Empty sheet of paper.
Now all's white
And all's black
I wrote you a poem
But you never wrote back.
Gleb Zavlanov Oct 2013
The waves dance lithe against the sullen shore
Brushing my feet with deep aquamarine
The air is sweet, the gulls among clouds soar
To take their place mid this tropical scene
The breeze is cool, the tide is calm, amid
The gold, gold sand hides lustrous ruby *****
The sun is high, between the palms it hid
Where soared and flapped snow-white the clouds like flags
    As we sit on the beach, a place of bliss
    I kneel closer and place a gentle kiss

The waves, like white horses gallop across
The soft, swishing sands, a castle of gold
Rises above the sand to many awes
Of those people who this palace behold
A lovely grandeur built by you and me
With love, a rope that twines our hearts as one
With threads of truth, of trust, of harmony
With the outlandish thread that old call fun
     And we would sip cocktails, refreshing
    As eventide came forth on her bright wing

And then we would walk cross the folding white
Of the pure, stainless, foam-washed, serene coast
Bespattered with the paints of evening, bright
Before the night shall come just like a ghost
And then when the moonbeams kiss the sea, deep
We’d go back to our hotel room where we
When all things are now quick and sound asleep
Will look up at stars from the balcony
    And we’d kiss there beneath the silver moon
    A sweet, last ending to our honeymoon
Copyright Gleb Zavlanov 2013
Primrose Clare Dec 2013
fogs on the pond,
gleam like fire on a voile.
awes flying with comets,
painting upon a starless sky.

lily pads silvered,
blue night young with shivers.
dulcet tone of the harp croons,
melodic like a poet's rhymes.

crystallized blood sweet of mist,
lingering on her lily-white ribs.
in the land where Mozart's energy sought,
in staccato his beauty fought.

To the doors,
the moors hide;
behind the half-light,
the garden ripe.

 in fey music, in sullen mist,
       the agonies and myths,
together in all
bequeath,
        to the flow of a rosary's beads.
ohNoe May 2014
Imaginary Diary

Wed, Oct 5, 2011

Back from the worst roadtrip of my entire life.  And an era ends as I sit ALL ALONE in this big empty house.  At least it isn't raining, so I can go in the backyard and build a big fire to cry in front of...


Here Be Me

out fades the fire, no longer reaching higher, merely old and tired, moved on from trying to crying, an era ends, and how to begin again?

yet death has not yet stolen the last breath, hope and prayers still befriend the living, and everyday miracles may still find the giving...


alone is a strange energy
almost alien to me
although it didn't used to be

lone wolf howls again?
prowls again?

kaleidoscope of feelings,
how to make meaning?

I like Me as much or more
than ever before
and I no longer keep score

lone wolf howls again?
prowls again?

hurt but not quite reeling,
what's the meaning?
can I manage the damage?

I scream
You scream
We All scream
for Ice Cream
but that does not balance the beam
does not quite Amen the dream.

And now my life changes again
rearranges yet again
Lone Wolf?


Thurs, Oct 6, 2011

"I mourn not moving into another decade, but at the end I've been betrayed, not good enough, not enough stuff, not the right house in the right city. given everything I could, done anything I can, but not trusted, accused of acts I did not commit, abandoned and alone again, except for the responsibilities, and bills, and animals, and an empty house full of stuff, and memories of what was supposed to be" -- miscellaneous anonymous old divorced dude


Have you ever noticed how close onesome is to lonesome and that together rhymes with forever?



Fri, Oct 7, 2011

Heart Broken yet again,
  far from the 1st time...
I know what to do
  & kinda how to do it,
    I guess...


****, this is going to take some serious time!!!!
(can I manage the damage)


How far is far enough?
How future is future enough?

head hanging down
  as does the soul inside
face fallen in a frown
  as the heart's tears are cried

looking & leaning above the abyss
  living the loss that leaves less
refusing not to feel this
  there shall be no numbness

hurt too many times
  to soothe with mere rhymes
but healing always happens
  hope never dies a final death
(I can manage the damage)


How far is far enough?
How future is future enough?

Once or so upon sometime
  boy met girl
    and his world went whirl.
Stars sent sparkles through the smog,
  moonlight went right through the fog.

And they asked Clint,
  what's so different?
And his simple silly smile said,
  are you really so numb dumb in the head?

Are you really only able to see
  the fine firm exquisite curves outside
and not the even more amazing beauty
  singly sweetly from the soul inside?

Just look closely
  into gorgeous intensity
    get swept into a deep brown sea
      and wonder at the world she sees!

And when you linger longingly on those luscious lips,
  don't just wish for a tender hot kiss.
Want the soft breath-touch of her spirit,
  and the words within which you'll hear it!

They may not realize what I see,
  but those eyes have looked at me.
And I sit in the dark and wonder,
  could my spark ever touch her?


When can it be Then again?

Because if a guy is extraordinarily lucky, every decade or two he might meet someone as amazing as you.  And if he has the chance to become more than friends, he HAS to try to make that reality.  If not, he HAS to know you in whatever way possible, as deeply as possible, to enrich his Life & Soul!


Flirting

Emotions mixing like potions
Imaginings made more potent
Did you see her?  She looked at me!  A lot!  We smiled with our eyes and our lips and our words and it was real!  It may have meant more to me than it did to her, but it was still real!


Somewhen

Wonderings About A Wonderful Woman

Dipping a heart in the Rush
     of the early life of a Crush.
Past the point when you'd just met
     & maybe not even spoken yet.

It's after you know there's something about her
     that's at the awesome end of special.
When you want to know all about her,
  learn the glow within the sparkle!

You find yourself wanting way less waiting
     between the moments you get to see her
and you're always antsy anticipating
     the next time you're able to talk to her.

You hope for her Happy
     and pray to be a part of it,
       an important part!

You ache to ask her for a date
  and hear her say okay, great!
You wish that that beginning
  turns into every evening
until oh so soon
  on an unknown afternoon
you both find you're destined
  to be much more than friends!

And inbetween the start and that part
  as you learn to hear each others' heart
there are a millionish questions about her
  you can't wait for time to answer...


Does she like mexican food?
  and sushi too?
Will she gag if you call her dude?
Has she ever done Mongolian BBQ?

Has she ever searched for seashells
  between the incoming swells?
Does she like getting flowers?
  What's her favorite flower?!

Does she like skating
           swimming
          whistling
           hiking?

Does she have brothers?
sisters?
younger?
  older?

Has she ever fallen on her **** in an ice rink?
  or played in the snow til your fingers can't think?

Does she love road trips
  for the destination
    and all you may learn/see
      along the journey?

Where has she travelled?
Where does she want to travel?

Does she like sharing dreams
  the moment you awaken?
When it still seems
  they really did happen?
                        
What animals does she love?

Mittens or gloves?

Does she love hugs?
  LONG hugs?!

Is she ready for me to want to stare at her
  (mmmmm, have you seen her?)
And does she know how
  to keep hearing “WOW”?

Does she like reading poetry?
  especially when it's about her / inspired by her

Will we share the joys and traumas
  the sillys and dramas
    that have made us us?


Will she excitedly show
  all of her old photos?

Does she believe in GOD
  and ghosts
  and eternal souls
  and True Love?

Has she ever prayed for me?
Does she know I've prayed for her?

Will we show not just our strengths
  but also our weaknesses?
Tell our awes
  and our flaws?
Share our laughs
  and our tears?
Whisper our hopes
  and our fears?
Even though it allows the other to truly see
  and brings tender vulnerability?

Will she let me provide what help I can
  for not only wants, but also needs
can she depend on this man
  for not only wants, but also needs
can she accept every effort from Clint
  and still know she's independent?


Does she like:

  --cuddling huddling together beside the fire, wrapped beneath the same blanket, holding hands, somtimes speaking softly about memories, hopes, fears, desires, sometimes simply staring at the spastic random wild dancing of the flames while listening to the crackles & pops & the night sounds from just beyond the circle of light?

  --a lazy afternoon on a summer beach, toes digging in the hot sand, breeze blowing sunshine across the skin, waves waiting to be watched and frolicked in?

  --being at the beach on a damp winter's day, sitting on a lifeguard tower just out of the reach of the rain, sometimes wondering at the miracle of the wild waves, dark and frothy, whipped by the wind to lunge upon the shore and race towards the tower only to tire and recede once more into the tide. Sometimes basking in the heat of each others' hands, eyes, lips & kiss, flying in the feeling?

  --walking along the beach in the moonlight of a still-warm summer's eve, holding hands as we wade in the waves, toes tingly with the spritz of the sparkling water?

  --watching a sunrise fill the skies of a desert dawn?
  --watching the sun set as it dives from the clouds, drops behind the mountaintop?

  --camping in the mountains, or by a lake, miles and miles from the encompassing glare of the city lights, within our private tent at midnight, comfy cozy cuddled close within 2 sleeping bags zipped into  1, marvelling at the stars spread out above the mesh ceiling?

  --walking hand-in-hand in a light rain laughing at the secret which only we know, that this cool warm drizzle, this tingle-mingle mist is the perfect place to kiss?

  --Las Vegas after dark?
  --reading to each other in the park?
  
  --short romantic messages?
  --exchanging random massages?

  --live comedy?
  --movie matinees?

  -- what's her favorite type of TV?
          comedy/drama/reality?
          food/cartoons/nature documentary?

  --a comfy couch where we fall sleep curled together with a shared blanket and maybe even some spilled popcorn?

  --disneyland?

  --silly errands at 1am?

  --talking through the night until the dawn?

  --sharing a shower, the water cascading across her unbelievable beauty, caressing every curve, glistening on her sweet sensuous skin and driving me deliciously delirious with desire?


What is her favorite color?
What is her favorite thing about her?

Who is her oldest friend?
            her best friend?

If she had one wish, totally selfish, just for herself -- what would it be?

Fuzzy PJ's or naked under a soft warm blanket?

Would she dance with me at home
  just the two of us
where we can be dorky
  or not good
    and just have fun?


Does she realize the HER of her eyes
           her smile
           her glow
           her lips
  the dreams of her fingertips?

Does she know that as impossibly amazing as it may seem
  my instincts sing to me
  that she's even more beautiful on the inside
  than she is on the outside?
  And have you SEEN her outside????

Would she want to hear me say
  you're sweet smart funny beautiful and hot, mmmmmmm  HOT
    and you will find True Love & Happyness
      because You Deserve It!

Does she want someone to want her
  emotionally spiritually physically?
Does she want them to wonder what she wants
  discover her innermost inner?
Want them to desire her joy
  so she can be joyous?
Does she want them to want to kiss her all over,
  caress her everywhere,
  squeeze her perfect *** with ultimate passion,
  dream of her arms and awesome legs around them,
  her bare ******* pressed against their chest,
  sing themselves to sleep with images of her lips,
  and imaginings of her sweet sweet kiss?
  

And maybe if we're lucky
  or meant to be
Somewhere in there
  “like” blossoms
    becomes Love!
10 year marriage, last year of which she accused me constantly of betrayal I never could or would have perpetrated. This is my trying to look forward with hope....
Julian Delia Jan 2018
(campfire poetry) WE ARE FIRE, WE COULD BE WATER

Flickering, fluttering, licking all it touches
Through another log it goes;
Spreading warmth, consuming everything,
Atoms and particles
Splitting and shifting in throes.

Fascination, energy at its purest.
An open flame, made malleable
By the hands that feed it or quench it.
There is no greater exhibition
Of something as infallible
In its awe-inspiring might
It is an eternal fight
Between that which is to be consumed
And that which is to be construed
Into something new, and different.

And so, we are one with the element
That awes us and terrifies us at the same time.
Our life is built
On the graveyard of our ancestry;
Our homes are powered
Through the sacrificial burning of past lives.
The food we eat is life from our perspective,
Yet it is death itself for all else.
The trees we cut down, the animals we torture,
The lives we take, the populations we uproot;
Our way of life is an endless reenactment
Of an ant being crushed by a boot
No life is sacred, all can be loot.

We are fire, we could be water;
A more gentle element than most.
A soothing, balming agency
Like the overachiever who dares not boast.
Both are harmful in excess,
Both can be destructive,
Only one is restorative.

And so, we choose to be fire;
We torch, burn, consume,
Until all that is around us
Transitions to its post-human state.
A lifeless mass of black and grey,
An emotionless, bottomless decay.

Alas, as these ruminations grind to a halt,
I find myself desperately looking for the fault
That has created the chasm that brought us here.
Where exactly did we go wrong?
How did we go from being masters of our fate
To this dark, ominous presence
That shrouds all there is?

The Renaissance, the Enlightenment,
and all the revolutions that were and will be;
The great men and women who dedicated their lives
For a better future.
To you, we should apologise - although it wasn't all in vain,
There still is a thousand-mile journey
One that has not gone very far.

And so, we choose to be fire,
When we could be water...
A poem about fire, written next to one.
I stuttered I stared
I touched something,
Something for which I thought I no longer cared

In the midst of oo’s and awes
In the lines drawn
I drew myself outside the frame

So did I lose it?
Am I reckless?
Do I wantonly pursue it?

Is the door closed or has it just been modified
Was I right the whole time?
Could I be wrong now?

To quote myself
I dig, I dig on the hidden her
Stunned by the private truth
The honest portrayal of self I saw
That thing I touched when I was invited in
I went but I only toed the water
Should I have dove into the deep

I stuttered I stared
You touched in me something
Something for which I no longer cared

In the midst of panic and fear
With a gauntlet drawn
I pushed and broke away

I may have lost it
Reckless in my thoughts and actions
Would you still use it?

My closed doors now open
You were right the whole time
I want what I think to be wrong now.

I stutter I stare…
SøułSurvivør Jun 2017
There's a Dove
That casts no shadow
Of its story I will tell
It has flown to
Highest heaven
It has sunk to
Lowest hell

It is pure as
Sparkling snowbanks
It could melt them
Like the Sun
In the end, as at beginning
Over evil, Victory's won!
It will fill your
Soul with longing
It is the End
'Fore time's begun.

There's a Lion
On the prairie
He has strength
That over-awes
In His Face
You'll see compassion
He forgives
Egregious flaws
You can find
Your comfort, solice,
You could sleep
Between His paws

He is ferocious
He's Protection
He is gentler than a lamb
Yet he has the
Greatest power
For he is God -
The strong I AM.

There's a Rose
Within a garden
It's blood red,
For It's been torn
The Rose itself
Has greatest beauty
Tho It wears a
Crown of thorns
It is pure as
Light unblemished
It has grown
For death was born.

It has a scent
Beyond comparing
It has light
That shines within
It has died,
And yet is living
With it's fade
It took your sin

Come, all you
So weak and weary!
All three of these,
The trinity,
Will come into
Your life together
Give you eyes,
That you may see!

Yes, come, bring
All your broken places,
Your heart, or so
The Bible goes,
You'll find help
You will find healing

The Dove, The Lion,
and The ROSE.



SøułSurvivør
(C) 6/24/2017
Have a wonderful Sunday!

Today is my sister's
Anniversary. Married over
30 years! I'm going to be busy
Making their present, and going
To the party we arranged for
Them... I will try to read tonight.
Thanks for understanding!

♡♡ God bless! ♡♡
Between my awes at the centuries old sculptures
She was lost from my sight.

Maybe a minute only I thought
But why she should roam alone?
Against my wish I fought
To call her on the cellphone.

Should I go to track her out
Peeping through windows’ iron bars
But spoke in me a voice of doubt
Unnecessary she couldn’t be gone far.

108 dark holy spires
She could be under any of them
Caught in the winter’s desire
For a round of hide-n-seek game.

Sometimes a minute could be eerily long
For the shadows of fear to haunt you
What if the wait’s end never comes along
And she forever remains out of view.

Didn’t know when she quietly stood behind
Her nudge gave me a start

*I know what now occupies your mind
Those displays of the ****** art!
RyanMJenkins Aug 2012
So while I was enduring hordes of fear, the path to clarity eventually became clear
Because all I needed was for you to be here.
I've always held you dear, wishing you were near, or that next to me you could reappear.
Sometimes I can't even bring about a smile as I gaze in the mirror.

It helps to be aware of the happiness you've attained.  
I know I once brought the feelings unto you, and I still feel a little strange.
Locked up tight in a cellar in my heart, the feelings have remained.
Thinking of the years they've sustained, I pray for situations like This we could be trained.

Next to none know of the magic when we stared into each others' eyes..
Everything happened so fast, but it was a more-than-delightful surprise!
Even as ships capsized, I knew somehow we still had our ties.
But I felt lost for so long, probably because of my emotionally driven tries.

A ray of sunshine, a beautiful soul.
A piece of my heart you inadvertantly stole.  
With such a little role, potentially never again will I be or feel whole.
I'm unaware of my own control, and to myself I have taken a toll.
Your spirit lifts me enough to want to make improving myself the goal.

Whether or not again our paths cross..
I am making peace with the time lost,
Though still wishing our moments were equipped with a pause,
While regretting never fully telling you how many times you left me with awes..

I just wanted to tell you that I miss you.
I'd hoped I could blame things on a miscue,
But instead I take solace in time I misused.
All I've ever wanted to know is,
Did you ever feel any of this too?
SG Holter May 2014
A perfect end to perfect day.  
The sun has set, is on her way
To pleasure others; never stay.
We borrow every ray.

And once again the darkness
Flows, the breeze has turned a force that
Blows the day away, each creature  
Knows: An infant thunder grows.

I went to bed to catch some sleep,
But once again the skies do weep
And here, instead of slumber deep
Awake myself I keep  

To witness such magnificence,
As lightning's dance in radiance.
It draws for me omnipotence;
It awes my every sense.

So here I lie with cat on bed
Who doesn't even raise her head
When Tor throws hammer up
Ahead. Cares only that she's fed.

Such comfort I have found I find
In Nature seeming most unkind.
And nearly dizzyingly unwind
From daytime, now behind.

My eyes turn heavy to the sound
Of power unlike any found
Within the skies or on the ground.
I'm safe, there's gods around.
Hal Loyd Denton Nov 2011
Wayward
Well I found it no where a little slice of life between here and some place it’s a tad blue well any way the
Blocks are they fit so tightly it’s the best really it goes so well with the remoteness although it does lead
To Burgeoning streets with a used book store tucked away discreetly with a cozy built in the feel of old
Knowledge just brooding under the rafters you can walk down the shelves with finger tips sliding down
The books you can run the gambit of Centuries it s like you have crossed a boundary unseen have elves
Created this Place one section marked wonder the next expectation another adventure you are in the
Mode Brooding swelling a rich gloating as you press further into the darkening walls that rise and fall in
Shaded Order the books take on the look of a city sky line that can be found the world over even the
Floor has been constructed of the most perfect wood do you feel the forest do you feel and see paths
That lead to a sun lit glen a perfect tree awaits set lean back take a nap then from your soft supple
Leather bag take out one of your favorite books and start to read immeasurable pleasure interjects
Mixes with all the Imagined sights and sounds your brought back to the present your ear hears awes
Coming from a child you move closer you see he has taken the first steps into the ever delightful
Cavernous endless life Found Within the covers of books every whim appetite all the hunger for
Knowledge rich beyond Compare stimulation on any and all subjects is harnessed bridled given free
Reign your life dark by Circumstances open the covers to spilling dazzling light never be discouraged all
The heroes of the ages Stand and wait for your call to them they march through each page they cover
Every cry disappointment you can avoid pitfalls see how they faced danger out witted trouble that surly
Had them defeated yes the end of nowhere is where the beginning of somewhere starts what is so great
you can find this in the most quiet desolate places you can be all alone feel forgotten have no clue then you
Stubble on such a find that its origins are truly divine wisdom knowledge passes through barriers of
Stupidity greed Selfishness it honors the one who finds this treasure then mines it with earnest
Appreciation gives it stringent application you will find emptiness is forced out and glory and true
Knowing has readily entered an empty vessel you are an asset to any and all and worth the find enjoy
The trip to Enlightenment
Intrépide Jan 2017
you came to me,
and told a poem
you've wrote for me

i didn't like it
for it lacked
some kind of wit
that i was finding

another fellow came to me
and wrote the same kind of
poetry

i loved it, not because
it's lovely
but because his looks
were charming

i brushed you off
not knowing why
for maybe i was being
sly

i got too busy looking
at facades to later
then be filled with awes
when i should be looking
at the innermost that i
could live to be engrossed

to see you now
writing poems, which are good
to read utmost
but those words that are written
aren't for me no more
V
Ken Pepiton Dec 2021
Can't you do anything right?
As a nation, my we, my act I made up,
as a mind, as bear
me, the big ol' teddy bear I became
when she wed me,
as she did… yes, she did

my awesome new creature, some how
lost all hope of wind
change, whistled away,
the courage departed at the first, estimation-

- interupture, bloats out, bic bubble,  popped in
- this stream to rewind the new mine, sparkfire
- mine, me, I whistled that very tune, go
that rock song about a river in Russia,---
not then, now, then

I got angry, a gift I gave, was rejected, my god,
wombed man, what must I do to know
as you know, knowing good and evil?
- where did I miss,
- I gave, oops, an iron.
- I called it a gift, but it was a common tool
- we needed in those early days of suits and ties.
But when I got angry, at the rejection, I slipped
into a schema, a modulation, in a wave… a point
- this was that point, ever once began with
Green satin sheets, a gift too
slippery,
not a point a foul, judged evil,
no good at all.

Knowing, if I do know, y'know
like what one
might know,
once, upon a taste,
slow chew, soft chew to taste, something
in this other tree
is new, new as any new shown thing
in this new polity
state, a new being, yes. this is it.

Make up a mind, or find one ready
made to take you in, and you cease
to be
you.

--------- later, we take up these qwerty codes
as in olden time

signals, modulation rhythmic silent letters
sounding
----
time and space, as the vehicle, the bubble,
we live in, or on, or as a part,
perhaps, of a we, awe-ish,
we function as a piece, in the whole idea
holy,
fill it, fill the hole, fill the empty, whither
nothing was and now,

I see, I am.
Where nothing was, I am, now
seeing as I am
where nothing was, am I as
nothing, open source
spirit, in a word, mayhaps,
may has always
been your way to go, we say
may be could be, no permission,
no mission maybe, go,
this is the message, the medium we be in.
Certain,
something is real, as real as any angelos,
as an os
developed to reach Lex Fridman, as an an-
swerving answer found
round that prickly little hedgehog facsimile
wink, past, flash glimpse
sense,
eh, bow, oops,
wow, I ran into the strong man in Iran
ascriptural blockage bear trap for lying spirits
Where Persia yoostabe, I managed to slip
through on a green sheet, that flipped
over time into an invitation, to a party
three weeks ago. Missed it.

Daniel's message read,
Excused. How could you cogitate the ways
time and chance twist the dance to seem
a tangle of possibilities, burnt satin
ash of things that never mattered, spirits
unprecipitated, Red Spot, Ted Talk, chalk
it up to another Warholian pro-phecy
or pro- fessing fident confi dense ity, we
inspire con-spiritstory-aspirations, toward awes.
as we beingspirits, at most, we make wind in the
bubble, we heirs of breath y nada mas,
we breathe meaning, even, average, virtue, which is
virtually an idle word in many tongues, virtue is
"moral {moral, really, what is that?
-AI says they may use the same tool,
-in an ever where chess is infinitely played, let them learn}
Lex's AI reads Hello Poet- tryal
-link, link, think, reader, first reader, mora-
more more more or, no, now define,
- the point-
show
strength,
high character,
goodness;
manliness;
valor, bravery,
courage (in war{LIE, I cry, war, morally, repulsive,
I talk back to war as my moral use of courazonic
minds erupt in matters consci-ence
weighing the worthy breath
versus the empty breath});
excellence, worth,"
from vir "man" (from PIE root *wi-ro- "man").

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=virtue&ref=searchbar_searchhint>

Wierdo, dam, vvery wary are we, mere winds in minds
that never matter, participate - no price, appraise
an angel, a message, nada mas participate in
precipitation, frost warmed forms morning dew
drops, and those, flow after,
dropping plop, into this river of no returns,
royal flush. Try to or try et?
Po-et-ry…,
like Whiskey and Rye, why must something
hold the spirit of that thing
to taste a worth of trying again,
and try… in order
Think; I think, commas mean breathe, and ; these
are winks. I betcha, what Jesus would do, were you
to ask him, what is real, as real as any jibril jargon,
he would grammarwise as alwise, use a sign;
like that, quicken,
a wink, a thought cast to ever, after, as the games
expand, who wins, Al ai ai, bet on i-,
ante-up, you work the odds.

You think we think
winning is a numbers game, lots cast to exchange
worth of my time, packeted, as
words, mere breaths we may refine to mean
truth trumps love, as rock breaks scissors,
and we laugh, due to winning
requiring laughing
as the healing begins anew,
we live and breathe this spiring material,
eh, mater
mmma ma material matters of time and chance,
prayers are
living stories, packed in lines. Use of knowing,
learning how, conscientious, with sci use, be knowing
next-ifity acts as if
neti, neti is not an honest answer, it can be honed
to pierce the acting reality,
and leave us blowing in the wind.
To all in the good fight, I offer knowing
reproves instructions in war being wrong, not evil,
only not right.
War does no good, any polity it makes acts as
a destroying wind, with no mind of venging,
only raging, sound and fury,

and at the point of no hope, I think
I am and
still, after all
listing as a warming breeze, I make a joy
mmm and imagine
I enjoy you being, still, receiving grace,
gentle wisdom, nothing hidden, nothing broken
freedom defined as peace, shalom
taken as
bold liberty, no price, for truth, once known
remains
within the bubble we live and breathe in. You know.
When the battle was over,

the thought of war was blown away, we do that,
every day,
in certain conversations, as we pack parts and pieces
------------------------------

Ghost guns, spirit blades, hand to hand hand grenades,
not carnal, these cut and seal the deal.
Mortal being, live for ever, in a word, or many,
as many as survive the womb to die before
death, the second, as they count,
may hap occur once again, missed points,
that pierce the wrong lonely heart
and expose the image
on a single nanoparticle of silver
gleaming golden in the light.
AWS 502 errors, step aside, this is real poet trying to resuscitate
Hal Loyd Denton Dec 2011
Music
Busted by the groove the Wolf man’s got your ears Johnny Mercer brings tears throughout the years
Kissed by the lonely lullaby it embodies the empty spaces draws from shadows and evokes gentle sighs
Hear the pleading moving soul of one tortured by a memory through the instrument and voice it bleeds
In the cold world a tune decidedly changes moods brings unquestionable comfort a safe harbor it buys

Trade the dull the common for the images set to pace they spill they emerge they dance freeing to all
Torn air in this space the wayfarer the drifter slips on the invisible current anytime or hour its glorious sunset
The inner called it listens with formable grace it blends all to magnificence and lives in highest taste
The source abridged by your convenience it can say more or less your interpretation decides its state

Fix the volume find a tucked away place the room fills with all manner of trips and promises of returns
Listen to that horn blown out of the delta or those sacred streets of the greatest cool bourbon Street
A little Sacmo what a wonderful world and don’t forget to honor and extol the other horn Lena Horn
Slides and rifts they were and are the greatest gifts every one given a stage all leaves lasting wonder

The crescendo reached then the fall what imagination stirred to the maxim highs and depths what awes
Take stir my heart give it all you’ve got don’t give it back in a few make it last only return it when it’s full
Hard as stones soft as Eddie money you get a thrill they show you the road it used to cost a juke box dime
I hear one in the dorm grooving to the Cat all space filled as the waves sweetly moved by a quiet storm
Kd Pascual Feb 2019
Exhausted, she runs
chasing the sunset that awes
and renews her strength
Written on a Friday. The author, tired from the day's work decided to run to the roofdeck of their office's building, to chase the sun that is about to set. This renewed her inwardly.
POSSIBLE Feb 2016
I was raised under shield and gun
Looked in my fathers eyes and grew under thumb

Theres awes for mah stalls
Hug and hold you in our paws
for the cause
we pause for this applause

I make friends
I get blown
I make friends
I go home

I make friends
and get shown
the Dark side
of the moon

skip tracks
forget facts
neural lightning
get stacked

I end my cigarrete
and grab my beer
Wander in horror
Its my self that I fear

Salty frozen pearls glimmer
in the passing, fading carlight
I keep rooted in the shadow
and stay running from mah fright.

It knocks in my head
never alone
it follows my steps
crucial loss of character
in need of a seraph
some sort of
charsimatic actor
some sort of
emblematic factor
A day in love is like a thousand years,
With a heart beating but time moves no more.
I know the timelessness of loving you,
Is God-like as in Psalms ninety verse four.

To be in love with you gives me my soul,
Your love is the breath of life from Heaven.
The love my lungs breathe is like the spirit
God breathed in Genesis two verse seven.

Your love shows me mercy, grace, good and truth,
Patience, forgiveness and absence of hate.
It awes me like when God showed Himself in
Exodus thirty-four seven and eight.

The more I love you the simpler it gets,
It’s something I just naturally do.
Love’s forever inscribed in my heart like
Jeremiah thirty-one thirty-two.
Instagram @insightshurt
www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Hal Loyd Denton Dec 2012
Busted by the groove the Wolf man’s got your ears Johnny Mercer brings tears throughout the years
Kissed by the lonely lullaby it embodies the empty spaces draws from shadows and evokes gentle sighs
Hear the pleading moving soul of one tortured by a memory through the instrument and voice it bleeds
In the cold world a tune decidedly changes moods brings unquestionable comfort a safe harbor it buys

Trade the dull the common for the images set to pace they spill they emerge they dance freeing to all
Torn air in this space the wayfarer the drifter slips on the invisible current anytime or hour its glorious sunset
The inner called it listens with formable grace it blends all to magnificence and lives in highest taste
The source abridged by your convenience it can say more or less your interpretation decides its state

Fix the volume find a tucked away place the room fills with all manner of trips and promises of returns
Listen to that horn blown out of the delta or those sacred streets of the greatest cool bourbon Street
A little Sacmo what a wonderful world and don’t forget to honor and extol the other horn Lena Horn
Slides and rifts they were and are the greatest gifts every one given a stage all leaves lasting wonder

The crescendo reached then the fall what imagination stirred to the maxim highs and depths what awes
Take stir my heart give it all you’ve got don’t give it back in a few make it last only return it when it’s full
Hard as stones soft as Eddie money you get a thrill they show you the road it used to cost a juke box dime
I hear one in the dorm grooving to the Cat all space filled as the waves sweetly moved by a quiet storm
Lexy Garcia Aug 2013
two beings,
into one.
a collision like how the sun meets the horizon,
in a beautiful blend.
the beauty awes everyone,
yet are there those against,
those who want the sun up higher,
not to wander anywhere near the vicinity of the horizon.
-l.c.g.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2015
you know the story, it's either machine-gun,
piano of a troll strolling along to the song
of a girl wishing to be anything but the female version
of oedipus, attracting attention, ******* a lot
(as you do), then clinging to the stable one
for perfection of the lie... i can claim such resources
in femininity as fluent and true, but what i claim is about:
care for the man engraved in history for a while, while man
encouraged man to not limit a life of 30 years the span of 30....
post-humous we'll have it.. there's too much CUT! and
pitchfork perfect in fame of the modern sense...
i could have settled for a court hearing,
a malignant care to concern myself...
but then i'd be a *****... i'd be reaping unrelated rewards
to only attempt prohibition if penitent alcoholics...
and i don't want that... i want what the japanese proclaimed,
i want honour... and you know...
eye for an eye is hardly money for a haemorrhaged
brain... the thing honour exposes...
i can see ridicule a mile away...
it's wit alright... but it's wit where you're centre stage
being laughed at...
honour does away with ridicule as the miscarriage
of wit...
it's humour alright... but it's not really pardonable...
honour can see ridicule a mile away...
plus i might have been smothered by a pillow...
i stood up, like the noumenon rhasputin and thought:
better me than ugly...
i enter the realm of the cat's onomatopoeia
that's meow... cling to the rule of writing the tetragrammaton
losing the vowels and get m & w...
then i apply this to understand something...
vowels are breaths... consonants are things breathed into / at,
i rearrange my insurgence...
the cat understands everything with the onomatopoeic
barrier of meow... it's the coptic version
of the science behind the eye...
i see upright with the aid of chinese writing
from top to bottom...
in get the crooked with the aid of militant japan
(the only military nation of asia),
sideways is when two monotheisms speak -
not even islam allowed it being written from
right to left...
it's hardly the jurisprudent hebrew:
i'm right... you're wrong.
no wonder the verb herbivore asking
the noun carnivore to eat up definite terms
of hydrochloric and carboxylic and ester to
speak in public about chemistry...
many a tree will blossom and then wilt...
many a sun will combust and shoot out
2d black holes that are explained with the symbol ∞,
many a badger will transverse the whole
of alaska in search of a frozen atlantis -
keen eye of man dare not look to devalue humanity
in what is called the fingerprint of dinosaurs
among insects...
who will carry our fingerprints?
only words can remain, a levelling above the insects
that might be deciphered by a universe in glee
of the ordained awes in number akin to sins & cardinal virtues.
we will not roar to the morn's reminder,
into the atomisation of answers the biologists provide
with d.n.a., we will not atomise truths and untruths,
biological atomisation is not the answer,
we have the chemical alphabet after all:
H, He, Li, Be, B, C, N, O, F, Ne, Na, Mg, Al, Si, P, S, Cl, Ar, K, Ca, Sc...
we need more than mosquitos and welsh / chinese dragons
to prove we existed for the next to come on this droplet of
splendour... the welsh and the chinese knew of
giant-lizard ribcage tabernacles before the excavations?
how strange... all of psychiatric theory concerning
the unconscious is just standing upside down...
we knew prior to what he senses sensed... weird...
as weird as what's termed the devil's dozen...
jesus: peter, andrew, james, john, philip, bartholomew,
matthew, thomas, james, simon, thaddeus, judas;
by my count that's past high noon, as one in the afternoon;
but in terms of spacial coordination... two thousand
and fifteen years out of date... given the present
islamic reformation.
Ben Nov 2011
empty the feeling i get
when i think about your
untold secret(s)
be there for her
says my head my heart
yet help you dont need
or so you say
"ill go at it alone
deal with it myself"
self courageous strong to the 
end
product of pain loss care
unrequited love love that
could eclipse a thousand
suns
how can you burn so bright
feel so strong take what
you do hear see and keep
going on
it amazes me awes me to
the point of not knowing what 
to say except i want to be
there i want to help you hold you and
i feel empty because i know i
cant you need to deal with
these demons alone i can
hear you now "now worries no worries"
yet ill worry in secret in my mind
my heart my soul though i say "ok"
cause even if you never told me anything
id worry for you about you with you
cause of my own unrequited love
Xavier Low Mar 2018
Am I to let go once again
To play the fool I have mocked from that day
Am I going to refuse chances
To play the coward I have avoided since that day
I wish I approached this with not fear but acceptance
like I've trained myself to all this while
But honestly I feel the scars to this day
Not the pain I received but rather from the pain I gave

For this emotion's complexity runs far too wide
I am only human
Humans don't walk into caves with no torch
Nor do they dive into oceans without tanks
I open my mouth only to utter silence
For I am speechless in heart but screaming in mind

I apologise in advance with all sincerity
That I treat this with such hesitance
It's not that I'm made of wood or rock
I show no emotion not because I'm heartless
But because I have felt so much, that it no longer tugs my remaining heartstrings
Perhaps I am not worthy of such magic

But i hope you see that your intelligence is boundless
That your kindness awes me and your beauty stuns me truly
But above all, that your imperfections are what gives you identity
Treasure every scar for what makes you captivating is not the amount of outfits you own
But the strength of your honesty

I miss the innocence that we once shared
But I am torn up now
Unwanted and thrown aside
My struggle shall echo in this cave that I've lost myself in
As I take steps forward round and round
Pulling the chains that **** me, pulling the locks that bind me
Clinging on to the hope that you have given me
For it is what I selfishly take for my own
Paul Glottaman Aug 2010
You must learn to forgive.
No one is perfect, and in that
broken person sleeps the very
creature which will rip the
heavens apart and remake a
world that thrills and awes.

You must learn to forget.
Because old battles don't need to
have a victor. They don't need
to become new wars,
better weapons, or another
mark in the “cons” column.

You must learn to stop comparing notes.
No one sees the world the way
you do, with the wonder,
with the cynicism, with the tired
eyes of experience or the fresh
eyes of hope.

You must learn to let a part of yourself die.
Holding on to a single thing is dangerous.
No one thing makes us what we are,
no interest or hobby or opinion can
possibly build a human being as
unique and clever as we all are.

You must learn to retreat.
While you live there is always
hope.
The beginning of a new day,
as wonderful and memorable as
you can make it.

You must learn to laugh.
My god are we flawed, useless
broken things on this tired
worthless world.
It's hysterical.

You must learn to accept the consequences.
Take the step, not ignoring the
possibilities for disaster, but relishing
them. How exciting can one life be?
When it is over, you will have your answer.

We must learn to grow.
Evolve or die.
Kabelo Maverick Jul 2014
A brilliant thought titled, my old friend told me to reshuffle before I write this. Touching humans with souls, be a friend or foe, I’m drawing this prose for those who were never told. Scared of being good coz being bold means bravery, Biko told me it could be repercussions of slavery. Forgive me, where’s my manners, let this be forever…I bet you’d rather hear what this has to do with the latter. What’s new? Signing future deals with the devil and smashing each other blue, can’t blame the Djs for scratching another Rhythm & Blues. Living like forever is promised, ins and outs, drinking high as long as my steps are polished. Put my chick on my payroll, so she doesn’t turn around and play ball. Same time, same eye on the vultures, busy eyeing my plate planning to scavenger my vouchers. Going to work building careers for Fridays and better Fridays, monotonous times with guerrilla peers for highways but never like gays. An agitating pain in my back, I miss the days of shooting hoops. Now the game has changed, I guess it’s time to rally the troops. Hoping I’m praying as I’m living through Everyday Thinking, regretting the white lies protecting the future of this everyday sinning. More kids still dying in the newspapers while the rest don’t even read, bad awes still killing our peacemakers while the rest think we’re free…
......©

— The End —