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Ali Ashraf Sep 2018
I hear the voice of the voiceless.
I see the face of the faceless.
People say I am a raving madman
for I kiss upon the passing breeze
thinking of it as your feet.

© Ali Ashraf
Just my interpretation of how divine manifestation or beatific vision would be and how it would effect the individual.
zebra Oct 2018
stranded in
the beauty of her throat shunted

her preference
a short drop
in a bulwark twisting knot
a hanged ghastly pendent

her feet arching desperately in search of a floor
they will never find

obedient!

yet
her face
a hideous insubordination
she dissolves like tropical butter
a screaming silence
a falling prayer
shuddering
with downward sloping limbs

she
blue
hemorrhaging
eyes wobbled
bulging to break into paradise
tumbling
like a dizzied cyclops
as numb lipped jutting howls
turn cement

always willing to help
he scums
for her
in pulsing heaves
of beatific gush
dark eroticism
****** horror
Gods don't sleep,
They dream.

I dream dreams
of universal things.
They take my daze,
Like a forgotten deity
prowling a maze.

She stepped inside,
Dripping in gold.
Curious to discover
"just how deep
the rabbit hole goes".

Tarry not on the thought
of what time shall whither,
Nostalgic ache is a beatific bane
as "all that is gold does not glitter".

What is intangible shall remain,
I am a god as I stand in the rain.
Quotes:
-Lines Eleven and Twelve from The Matrix by The Wachowski Brothers/Alice In Wonderland by Lewis Carrol
-Line Sixteen from The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien
I caught fleeting glimpses of her throughout my night,
Like she'd wandered from a beatific dream into the half-light.

And I sighed,
For a girl had caused me to pause and blink;
Astonished by her tender magnificence,
I dared to hope to think.
What could I say?

By the Spanish Arch as daylight subsided
I sought her amongst the droves of the intoxicated.

Hanging around near the end of the day,
Waiting for the crowd to come out and play.
She lingered by the water's edge,
With another group, their tale yet unsaid.
A megaphone blared her brazen attitude into the air,
A bottle of Buckfast was her chalice to bear;
She supped the vicious liqueur,
It's contents not as dark as her charcoal hair.
Latina. Wild eyes.
What could I say?

Then the guards came
and scared us all away.

A street-party was going down in The Latin Quarter, downtown,
The tides of people made it hard to get around.
Deftly, I waded through the massive crowds
to find my friends in the tavern above.
Later, across the way in an infamous pub,
She resurfaced from the masses, megaphone still up,
With an expression that said: Wanna play?

Her eyes spoke volumes of venturous exploits,
This night but a chapter of expedition in a book of conquest.

Those pupils that glimmered
had something magic in them:
A soft disregard for the world
and calm anticipation.
What should I have said?

Hispanic allure is hard to cure,
And it reminds me so much of one other;
I'll never forget her, despite my bit speaking to her.

Anything. Anything at all.
J Christmas Aug 2011
I shall love diners after Death
                 Famished from a million mile trek
                           Soft dances, whimsical, flowing
                                    All in time and in step
                                             Effervescent  in its antiquity
          Light penetrates the vociferate soul
                    A blinding silhouette Reveals the true physique
                             casting no shadows
                                  back, at last, back to the harmony &
                                 surrealism of our sacrarium, our home
                                   no more hours to waste away
                            nothing to signifying  
                                            night from day
                 no need to search for words to convey
                  As we began we return just as we should
                   our recrudescence revivifies our sainthood
                                            with No judgment charged upon us
                                         with no reward for the good
                                     neither condemned are the noxious
                                 immoral nor the many many absurd
               For those deleterious malignant calamities
                    must remain incarcerated on Earth
                              from whence it came
                               As we Return once again
                                         soul cleansed in beatific death
                                                The physical abandoned with sin
                        The dead left unknown,
un birthed
Shut in
John Deryck Christmas copyright 2011
On the ocean of life I
Dropped  thought-pebbles
Resonances in winds
Rebounding in ripples
Actions born in countless waves
Triggering counter-actions!

Cataracts of wonders, suddenly
Vomiting volumes of gold
Pouring golden flames
Into life ocean purities
Bouncing up hills and valleys
In voyage of expectations
Creating realities in emeralds!

Tumbling air in blues
Skies beatific glory binges
In endless waves in azure skies
Echoing sounds of depth
Deeper than the deep
Launching into the Deep
Harvesting immortal gold
Reaping eternal glory!
Deep Oct 2018
O traveller, why lookest thou ahead road,
grave and speculative,
Depriving your eyes such a beatific sight,
See the angelic form that standeth behind
that window curtain,
Come, wait, sit beside me, it’s worth waiting,
We both will sing in praise of her
And linger until she uplifts the curtain.
You say it’s purposeless
Why argue?
Isn’t it the reason our maker gives us eyes?
Isn’t it the purpose of our mind’s evolution
to sing and hail the beauty; at least of her.

You won’t believe my word? Impertinence!
You will be blinded by her shadow
spare her presence; “stare not for long”,
What? You say it exaggeration…
Bon dieu!
If beauty is not exaggerated
where lies its charm.

Look! her shadow moving, she is
growing impatient as if  getting
late to meet her lover.
Yes, she wins heart in a look
and crushes it in a blink and wins again
by smile.
Monarch sleeps in her bed
Life in right, Death in left hand; she possess,
Judiciary in closet
And warriors in purse.
Countries bow, world kneel, universe supplicate
before her.
Stop! Where thou going?
Pardon these adynatons,
I’m drunk in her beauty.

Let us sing then, I’ll lead, you follow

Flowers wilting in chilled air,
Waiting clouds to part
To have a look fair,
Of moon…

Do see the restlessness in that room?
I can sense her ***** heaving, repressed
sighs, and her fingers twisting, twirling
in exasperation,
It must be a lover
who invented song, isn’t it?

A gloomy firefly in this starless sky
Searching his lover
Who has lost the light,
Wait not moon, rise, help him
In his plight…

Look! look! The curtain is drawn
There she, my sovereign,
don’t mistake her eyes for stars.
Have a profound look, but not too long;
this witnesses only fortunates.
What? you lost your vision-
But I warned you earlier.
Now who’ll testify I saw her?
In grandeur of eminence the Sun celebrates her power
In the thick forest of the darkest the Moon flourishes in her glory

The tidal wave is in tinder of a brand new glory, catching fire of a mad harmattan, refining gold and diamond in the expansive field of a glitzy pearl

And transcendence on our way it's roaring of the tidal wave, uprooting dark moons and burying scourging suns in infernal graves!

See our warriors surfing on the tidal wave of this season of victorious glory,
manifesting us to the world, declaring the glory of the Glory, shooting pearly flames in clouds of glory and power

As quotidian stinging tides are being uprooted in routing defeat with eerie eruption of volcano of joy and power in uncommon grandeur.

Oh! Alluring sun of glory
Oh! Alluring moon of majesty
Festooning our sky with power-stars
As rain of victory drowning us in splendor!

Oh! Tidal wave of beatific season, harvesting us barn-full glory at morning dawn of the victory crow!
Kevin Sep 2018
Long lost lover, where may you possibly be?
Under the glistening stars beneath my wake,
Above these shimmering rip tide waves in these dreams

Long lost lover, do you ever feel?
The need, the lust, the pain of a crimson rose,
Light as feather drifting through the breath of light clouds

Long lost lover, do you need?
A compass, a signal or a touch of the beatific times ahead
Sudden escape from the grim shadows through the seams

long lost lover, when will this be
Lucas Jul 20
disengaged by the rays
of austin texas;
a florid divorce
of what's happening
and what's coming.

i move to houston,
i move to wichita,
i move to the 30a.

ohio, i come
to stand as a temporal wave
of crashing integration.

i move to cambridge,
i move to al-rayyan.
i move as the light from within.
i move in allusion to god,
to music and maker,
vibration and the lord as lovely.

here to, i move;
as mockery, as anti-luddite
smoothering myself
in turkish coffee
and colored death rings.
i move,
confounded in magik
and beatific static.
here to, here to,
here to,
her love, her license to covet.

i move as the present becomes me,
el ****** loco sueno presiding
and sueding and satiating
saturations of the same shade
of different moons.

i move, as mrs. mother young touch
would like me to.
forgetting about something
previously in flummoxed forethought,
now in hammer nail tow and current.

conscription of bead
and head cover,
down leland, i move.
Julian Jul 2016
Fragile egg-shell mind on dawn’s highway bleeding the segue between times traversed only in momentary dreams or in enduring excursions

We drag our droll and quaint 60s baggage like the luggage of a safari made of concrete girding a cavernous expanse of unheralded ground

With our ears oriented to the floor, we leap out of body never to deplore….never to ignore….never to miss the blue bus of our drafted imaginations, so carefully culled from brash elitism

I trounce the intervening time between being friendless and an ironic end, and an irenic comrade becoming the dearest amazed but always aplomb friend

We simper in our glorious traversal, and though bedraggled through an ornamented cavern we linger just long enough to be celebrated

Then a blues riff emanates from a vapid bar, and finally someone heralds my exhumed memory still rusty with the pavement of encased concrete on an empty or full tomb

So I wander in my mind to that roughshod Paris glassy tincture a romanticized gild of proper sensibility crafted in the tongues of lizards emulating the tongues of serpentine Anglicans

As the power of love transcends the love of power, both are afforded serendipitously upon the stately occasion of a fitful revolt where heads literally rolled and deaths still unfurl from the slippage of a violent malevolent eternity, crafting a new creative way to expedite the smite of preventable scourge

So Jim, I see your picaresque side and your wide-eyed love for a listless ship anointed of a crystal blip just detectable long enough on RADAR to become the statistic to crack the slim WHIP

No wigs are needed at this formality, no figs grow from trees forty-five years buried and almost a full month unsung

Pitiable cretins of an invented insanity, they scoff at my ravenous and portentous heart for its excess and for aligning with an upstart verging on only a specious insanity

Why in all humanity could a month be mustered with every defense of history and yet for it to be so widely flouted as a risible exercise in futility

The irony that the artistic glamor of a past vogue becoming a revival that is often toked only to one song but never to the memorial of great cavernous and commodious imaginations, staggers with dismay where otherwise the mayday would be a disaster but still a great day

Then I look at a triggered-fingered omen of a death so ominous yet so brazenly confronted as the ambassadors of time provide plaudits to a fearless martyrdom

Why such a sad spate, why such a stringent but malevolent fate a malediction on a family whose crest is not crestfallen like rolling waves but ornamented with gravity impounding its own weight

A fugacious tomb, an eternal flame, a swan song announcing an independent authority on a prescient demise mashed and deprived

A single shot rippling through the broadened space between clasped eternity and a histrionic disgrace as a psychological confederate pays lip service to a reiterative applause

A cousin hardly American in a defected record of incendiary plumes of a hoarse hatred of waxen discs and flying discs alike,  climbs out of a bonfire mounted purely out of vindictive spite

Then upon a great white buffalo a wrapped package of Californian love before California ever alighted like something beyond an avaricious dove, saw a rocky park and a hearth of illuminated darkness the singular spark

Captain Morgan knows the jackknife applause of a botched deal morphing into a disbelieved spiel. A shibboleth of enormous mystical weight crashing down from an ethereal abode and heaven heavily saddened cannot hardly appeal

Then a loving spoonful of crystal blue persuasion led me to Ethel’s regimented keepsake and for once in my life nobility and I became a grateful waif. But temerity laughed, splintered spacecraft, and the wooden paws of a bearish applause led to resurgent clarity

Blinking stars shattered by knighted and raw applause punctured the liberated might of a sentient hortatory savior grasped by the internecine wrench of a waxen time

An indie track slides by unnoticed in an aleatory time, and the threadbare whine of centuries of lament becomes a dastardly barn set ablaze with the fury of ancients and the scurry of faineant patents

Perfidy slides in recess, and in gentle forbearance the winged angel lingers like a halo on conifer and spring above a remedial ring

I dial frisky celerity tingling the dangling claws of a raven’s screed and in plunder of all history’s pilfer secrets I eagerly weave a tapestry Indiana Jones himself would be proud to watch

Not the riotous ruin of a mystery tour of verdure crippled by genocide but overcome by the revived life of raised rain razing the moments of indelible pain

But the culmination of a proffered time taken at its word for its every careened bird, for its every brazen gird. The manger of proctored stars calls us home tonight and home forever. Life in quaked timorous stumbles suddenly no longer so fitfully absurd.

The quixotic plundered of pirates and emperors in direct emulation of some crooned pastiche of whittled integrity, surges above any encased blurb and any vain testament to a pyramid rigid in destiny and ragged in desultory and sturdy sincerity

Multiplying the ineffable by the division of arable divorced from edible is too creative to be eaten as pabulum when sparks curdle flickered moonlight crimson and that become golden only to the last laugh of ennobled ragamuffins

Frankly the desert of melliferous gorillas abetting the lark of a heavily vetted camarilla engaged in the sinecure of a rigged wall on a main street to block the tall from the lame bleat. Stocks grazed, costs engaged on a littoral beach at the end of a Bossy promenade

This prayer is a cutthroat collapse of a merry spare, a ribbed ****** waiting to plunge into the antithesis of female despair, but sincere in its restraint that vixens courted in love aren’t courted in litigation of a wagered dare

Ambulances chase Deloreans through the desolate moon-stricken skies of a time agape with fleets of phantasmagoria on a Cliffside too wise to ever mince words or excise cries

Skulking the red-teared caverns of entombed films and lampooned tinctures on a passion vetted only for certain and utter deracinated disguise, I wallop with winged men in a single soul armed to the teeth with inveterate tithes to eternal internments of poached and endangered gazettes

As growth older in wizened skin bets on epithets rather than epitaphs for rinsed peace and triumphant clefts we leap above in orbit of only the bellowing nether of blown tolls and untold souls aggregating the esoteric grasp of Alexandrian tomes

The denumeration of certainty is a carousel of wonder, a splurge of time ripped asunder with majesties of paparazzi scuttled impacts a throttled iniquity of regalia’s indicted blunder frenchified but still clean with inestimable sheens

With twenty-five dollars, a dime an assist and a nickeled reiteration of currency already so personable it is divine and sublime in crazed desist I watch the embroiled natives clash in denatured violence with the warriors of a crossed repast hearkening to an old land much of ire but too much of grandstand to ultimately last

Itching for a holy field husk of peerless ties listed as rumpus and beer, a two-packed smoked by bludgeoned blokes careless in irascible sputters of a muffled doom, a Vegan becomes the author of too many sacrosanct homilies becoming defiled witchcraft brooms dead on arrival too many lionized tombs

In plaudits and the scause of an amplified “what if?” of an olfactory nightmare of petrified fog of effluvium bogged in Wade and in heat it is always clogged, sinewy libations of toasted preemptive revenge become a powerballed hog

A castle in the sky founded on Franklin but scourged of wineskins brimming with a distilled time, a swift repartee becomes the whispered ladder of saints blather becoming not rather other than a Dan Rather spatter

A door breeched by a broached inconvenience of amphigory beyond common reach, I clamber excess and whisk the lingered love into destiny beyond any word other than a beseeched preach of nothing tired but everything inspired of noble love with abundance often to teach

Fireworks of turned tides of fallow tithes to aliens beyond any conceivable bribe the bushwhacker writhes but survives staying alive without even a hint of garbled jive a 27th floor glass elevator is quite a resplendent ride

Wellsprings knowing radical rolled tides of errant dice also themselves guilty of confessional tithes to the monolith of avarice at the nooked cranny of an evaporated time we whine as the police sting the album rained with songs too lugubrious to sing but in their elegy every lonely heart has a propinquity phone of souled resonance ring

Iterative mastery of a mathematics of love, loss decay and the dross of a dental Occidental floss, the sweep of screened queues become questions of inestimable importance to foreign dues on a horse with no name but so consumed with fumes

A fright occultist thriller prowls in a waylaying daylight, masquerading an innocent confection for a rescued triage of a dawn stabbed with knives in our last dying days of trembled plight

He resurrects only the wraiths of detest, squinted at by the putrefaction of summoned cardiac arrest and littered with bullets that somehow can penetrate even impregnable bullet proof vests the wrapped carcass of the mummified husk of ready despair offers itself a ghoulish and raspy prayer

Synchronized in a low roaring swathe of rollercoasters too immersive to ride, the terpsichorean obscurantism of deliberately shattered fragments becoming blurbs dismissed with hijacked deride the carnival of a summer sun becomes the ocean of limitless love becoming endless fun

We forget the drawl of the droll old tales that haunt like specters in the closet and beneath the bedridden valetudinarian of an effrontery of shackled fright, we sprawl the innumerable caverns of prophetic insight afforded by the pantheon of history enter stage left, depart stage right

And with their insight I write and write, I grasp the tusk of democracy and wage an insurrection against the doubt of plodding limitations in otherwise immaculate sight

*** and tyrannosaurus rex, of litigable offenses leading to pardonable arrests, the gated entryway of a poetic splurge leads to the demiurge of a demotic enlightenment and suddenly the frank becomes the frazzled retirement and that haunting hounding bunny transmogrified by a shattered eye averts the car crash that careens ponderous engines out of limitless twilight blue skies.

Diamond lightning in pristine skies escorts the telegraphic totems of riddled modems from 1967 to 2016 and suddenly all venerable personages converge on a teeming scene of a union unified by a universal dream. To become everything and yet nothing and out of light and darkness to become a beatific beam
Lucas Oct 7
boxes of book
and television
and face
as face
to equal grey
touch on
jovial me
and outlined leaf and branch
on the cloud purple;
stereobouncing
a renunciation
of human man
dissolving into rain.  

i am goo
and strapping, rigid tendon
as mud to mud
to mud and midday musk
as sand
on the long river
of beatific love
i am taught
how to howl
and when to look deeply;
i am blessed
because i am here.
your magnetic eyes and thighs
that never lie but speak twice as much as the truth
i am abused by your delirious laughter
i am amused at your shattered theater
i have become a drowning servant
abhorred in your servitude
loathe to whisper the tenderest secrets
so free me from the violet waters
the drones of laughter and suffering
the hours spent in your beatific company
i monitor the arrangements we’ve made in wonder
some claim that we are descended from the dead
and others from ancestral monkeys
some claim we are a wild combination of proteins
and others that we spontaneously came into existence
from whence there was only stardust
but i know that no matter what they say
we all share the same destiny and destination
and i'm contemplating if i am truly ready
to be released by trial and error
and surrender to the heat and flames
upon the frying pan of love
Julian Apr 20
The inaugural bang swiveled with the vacant expressions of a muted feral crowd indignant about ethnic identity and swift in the recourse of tyrannical thugs pandering withered abuse

I solemnly abided in a chirpy itinerant glower against the exclusive system for stranding the disintegration of lyrical integrity for the Potemkin cheers of the culmination of too many jeers

Withered words for the abeyance of silence I incurred with wistful pleas for resurgent clarity beyond   sheepish fears

So I loitered in the evanescence of words..

Watching with alacrity as the strident ignorance of grafted wretchedness writhed its last mustered exsibilation at the sound of windbags bloviating beyond prodigal extravagance without a visible tweeted word

I measured my pause…..as I considered the heft of poignant exposures to a dismal serenade of miscegenated politics and garbled breaths of wheezy mendicants seeking participation in the trophy of smothered compliance

But I marveled simultaneously at the extinction of the shriveled crowds as they sized up the minutiae of wastrels glamorously inviting a frozen recapitulation of sorrows borrowed and wasted on minced platitudes that swindle still the votive confidence of regimented sympathy pretending empathy for soured hearts professedly defiant at their bereaved will

My pulse I clocked at 120 as I wondered where on earth the 140s and 150s have frittered their patience on with such brazen alacrity for the garish snarl of a sojourn into the ineffable effrontery of aureate mutiny against the tyrant of deaf spoon-fed indignation without the luxury of shared ignominy of memorable cadence for frippery in sparse blurbs registered in braille rather than brawn

Then I remembered my vociferous persnickety temperament and the curdled hatred of procrustean swan songs to an etiolating standard of ethical entanglement in aloof issues delivered with a decisive swoon too swift in earnestness to outfox with a quipped rebuff or a calculus of classical spoof

Then I wondered with a problematic but inherent prolixity…..
I too could adorn the adoring moon with a lyrical lampoon geared for a clockwork punchline or a winsome rebarbative tune….OR…. enchant with an incisive acerbic rant about how pasquinades outstay their welcome because of the clambered insistence of happenstance years ago in a blinkered mirror but never rehashed too soon

But where would affection heap its laurels if I dared to swindle the spotlight away from frisky poetasters who proved a renegade inspiration for fluttered triumph in a seaside tragedy only the crestfallen waves of pestilent Idiocracy could steal from my outstretched tenacity in verse and verve

Boom went a fulmination of hatred at my labored words! And then I swerved to avoid potholes of tenuous gainsay…. and other miscreants littering the world with misappropriated labels for laments belabored with publicity for displaced enmity distilled from a cauldron of mismatched ignorance….tethered to the vagrancy of gripe plucked at the ripe time for a twenty-dollar prize give or take a dime

But that dime separating 1990 from 2010 meant more than anything to a life littered with hallowed word crimes…. against the sanctimony of syncopation with cheap bleats too arrogant to be sheepish at the lavish indulgence of the marginalized wines…. brewed in a castle flickering on fiat worth rather than the simplicities of minutes of warbled time

So I currently warp minds with the proctor of a gamble too garish to finesse the quicksand of attrition but jaunty enough to bypass the limitations of a linear self-referential memorial about the circular nature of irony espoused by divorced rhymes

Now I stand ascendant….waiting for the retinues of retinas to absorb the wavy rigmarole of the serpentine pathways carved beneath the buzzwords of race and division and towards soldered unity with a human race beyond racism…. and a class divorced from socioeconomic crass division

Just then I arrived at serenity…. as I realized that the BAR exams that encage so many aspirant hearts are counterfeit in the court of the highest judiciary art that believes that insidious artifice is an embezzled venture of frolicsome guttersnipes wallowing in division can never revive a lifeless heart…. even if quick-witted credentialism rattles the slaves to vapid artforms that any humanism would never deem smart

Ditch the agitprop as a human frailty indentured to endure the curated disease without a cure to make the snollygosters in Washington ever so cocksure with their cockalorum disregard of the palatable consensus to make news real again….Finally for the fraternity of an enlightened human race in a benighted world of trendy fatuousness that infests the planet with the debauchery of glorified urchins jerking the levers with severed brevity to promote infectious foofaraw with cultural indemnity

I leave you with this

What is ornate complexity without the luxury of concerted beatific bliss that the parsecs that flummox your minds throb vehemently with cohesiveness in my internal design are not remiss

And remember the benighted standards of kitsch for the kitchens of penury bewitched don’t stand a chance against the overriding itch to vanquish mountains one after another to cross them off the list
let the lips of my angels embrace you wholly, God,
a kiss of wisdom waters love with the embodiment of heavenly art,
I am scented with an ocean of delight,
my soul is wounded in your love,
let us rejoice at the final end of human life,
death comes near, let it approach and break the bonds,
the lips of my soul paint your beatific visions,
let me die not for your love, but instead let me flourish evermore with this sublime gift.

— The End —