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"beclouded" poems
It was golden and splendid, That City of light; A vision suspended In deeps of the night; A region of wonder and glory, whose temples were marble and white. I remember the season It dawn'd on my gaze; The mad time of unreason, The brain-numbing days When Winter, white-sheeted and ghastly, stalks onward to torture and craze. More lovely than Zion It shone in the sky When the beams of Orion Beclouded my eye, Bringing sleep that was filled with dim mem'ries of moments obscure and gone by. Its mansions were stately, With carvings made fair, Each rising sedately On terraces rare, And the gardens were fragrant and bright with strange miracles blossoming there. The avenues lur'd me With vistas sublime; Tall arches assur'd me That once on a time I had wander'd in rapture beneath them, and bask'd in the Halcyon clime. On the plazas were standing A sculptur'd array; Long bearded, commanding, rave men in their day— But one stood dismantled and broken, its bearded face battered away. In that city effulgent No mortal I saw, But my fancy, indulgent To memory's law, Linger'd long on the forms in the plazas, and eyed their stone features with awe. I fann'd the faint ember That glow'd in my mind, And strove to remember The aeons behind; &
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21.4k
The City
In my mind, as infinite as the heavens, I am but a starry eyed stranger Wandering through her shimmering realms Beneath an ebony sky, laced with crimson, Beclouded with spiraling sprays of stardust A child, a warrior, a saint full of sin, I pass through the vapour of my shadowselves Layers falling away like rotten tree bark Exposing the rings within, like fingerprints, Looping coils of time, bending but unbroken Somewhere in the distance a dragonfly dances on the surface of the water, Unknowingly admired by a sharp toothed Chinook As another lost soul pulls back on a well worn syringe, Seated on a broken toilet, slowly leaking across the scarred, yellow linoleum. While a mother in Africa nurses a starving baby from her malnourished breast, A stomach ravaged by dysentery, Lips cracked and bleeding beneath the relentless heat of the sun, And a pimple faced pop star sips champagne from a crystal goblet, Wearing eight hundred dollar sunglasses and basking on a beach in Barbados, Where they will spend more on hotels and liquor for a week than most families will earn in wages all year. I close my eyes to imagine a world where only dragonflies sip champagne, and people ACTUALLY care about one another. But the former seems more likely than the latter... So I return to my inner sanctuary of dreams... And once again, I am infinite.
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May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 10:00 AM UTC
infinite*
There was a fog that seemed to hover thickly over the perceived salience of his musings    It was as if there were a veiled mystique that left hopeful understanding ,                    ambiguously obscured ... His soul's cadences fell beyond the pale , like a reverberant iron bell’s clamor ,                    drowning acumen ; albeit , unmistakabe crystal clear allusions , scanning inwardly, rhapsody in his mind's eye                     Illusive accord ,                     beclouded by seeming stigmas                     borne of the flesh ;                     delicately sensitive nuances ,                     misunderstood imperfections ,                     bespoken utterance weighed heavy upon heart ... In the hush of pensive repose , flow of soul streamed forth from its retreat within ; bequeathed as if darkness was magnetically drawn towards light , purging muted understanding ...                     Assuredly seeking all questions with verve ,                     accepting , that all answers sought                     are not meant to be understood A realization of those who wish to speak yet abide unspoken ; the unseen mark of those that wished they had been loved , befallen the music of a thundering heartbeat , understanding a circle is vulnerable , only makes it stronger ―                     hence ,..                     it had been written                     in countless misunderstood ways ... Knowing he resists an inner-voice to endure silently for a fear of that which remains indelibly writ , tattooed on introspective walls far removed from the afterglow of light , where depth of soul yearns to be freed ;                     heart speak hushed , deft words avowed                     in enigmatic tongues ― Vayu doth whisper                     soul's prevailing tides ebb and flow                     from unseen depths , permeating                     deeply within inner realms The spirit of soul once steeped his heart’s intone :                "Spell words that bind together passing strangers                    *Coalesce  thoughts to inspirit those whom often walk alone                  Append the goodwill of poetry, aspiring to bond individual                  hearts and minds with words of love and light.                    Conjure written  spells to bespeak sincerely ,                  a faith in unabated love*" and yet ,   he will write it again and again ,.. searching beyond words …words grasped from emerging thoughts                    drawn in to the light                    searching for other adept words                    to recite yet another way ,                    sketch another word-scape ,                    written with the relentless inexhaustibleness                    of an unstoppable awakening ...   Another winter dawn imbues a new day come to light                    he will write it again and again ,                                           ... finding another way to be set free ...                                                                  Harlon Rivers
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Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
A fog that seemed to hover ...
There was a fog that seemed to hover thickly over the perceived salience of his musings    It was as if there were a veiled mystique that left hopeful understanding ,                    ambiguously obscured ... His soul's cadences fell beyond the pale , like a reverberant iron bell’s clamor ,                    drowning acumen ; albeit , unmistakabe crystal clear allusions , scanning inwardly, rhapsody in his mind's eye                     Illusive accord ,                     beclouded by seeming stigmas                     borne of the flesh ;                     delicately sensitive nuances ,                     misunderstood imperfections ,                     bespoken utterance weighed heavy upon heart ... In the hush of pensive repose , flow of soul streamed forth from its retreat within ; bequeathed as if darkness was magnetically drawn towards light , purging muted understanding ...                     Assuredly seeking all questions with verve ,                     accepting , that all answers sought                     are not meant to be understood A realization of those who wish to speak yet abide unspoken ; the unseen mark of those that wished they had been loved , befallen the music of a thundering heartbeat , understanding a circle is vulnerable , only makes it stronger ―                     hence ,..                     it had been written                     in countless misunderstood ways ... Knowing he resists an inner-voice to endure silently for a fear of that which remains indelibly writ , tattooed on introspective walls far removed from the afterglow of light , where depth of soul yearns to be freed ;                     heart speak hushed , deft words avowed                     in enigmatic tongues ― Vayu doth whisper                     soul's prevailing tides ebb and flow                     from unseen depths , permeating                     deeply within inner realms The spirit of soul once steeped his heart’s intone :                "Spell words that bind together passing strangers                    *Coalesce  thoughts to inspirit those whom often walk alone                  Append the goodwill of poetry, aspiring to bond individual                  hearts and minds with words of love and light.                    Conjure written  spells to bespeak sincerely ,                  a faith in unabated love*" and yet ,   he will write it again and again ,.. searching beyond words …words grasped from emerging thoughts                    drawn in to the light                    searching for other adept words                    to recite yet another way ,                    sketch another word-scape ,                    written with the relentless inexhaustibleness                    of an unstoppable awakening ...   Another winter dawn imbues a new day come to light                    he will write it again and again ,                                           ... finding another way to be set free ...                                                                  Harlon Rivers
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Remains of the summer sunlight drip out, entomb'd in raindrops from the prevailing gray beclouded skies Memories of joy bathed in sunlight unravel like a wind frayed kite dancing above a day at the beach Soaring seagulls ponder all thousand feet of kite string tied to a hidden bliss below — hurtling through the shapeless heavens tethered to refreshed dreams still lingering within an untamed child of the wind Morning falls from  the  trees in whispers of golden sorrow The damp chilled air smells fresh as the traces of heaven's cleansing rain — befallen drop  by  drop, each plash counted from an angel weeping, splattering the broken silence all  through the night. An inflamed montage of leaves surrender all this unholdable lifeline we  ever  know; blanketing the fields of  autumn's tawny  grass — Sowing a mosaic colored reclamation  reposed atop a nascent green, soon enrobed by impending winter’s pallid slumbering hues The darkening hush imbues a shadowing fugitive peacefulness bathed in wind river eddies of autumn’s blessing rains harlon rivers
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Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 11:28 AM UTC
etomb'd in raindrops
The deeper the veins of a silent rising fountainhead reach, awaking a muse more chilling than the truth     in the blood ― a  cold stillness stirs that lets me feel  an unheeded sigh cast in the wind A breathe of words from a sudden burst of silence, tossed like a handful of dust lost in a rush   of wind ― a  beclouded murmur fleeted; holding your breath as the aching passion manifest, no longer containable I really wonder if you even know or care who's behind the dark      cracked glass ― you learn to live with what’s broken    to survive... learning to look in the eyes of a dark horse in a tight-lipped mirror, to hear what’s pushed back down unswallowed Staring down the muted throat of the voiceless; feeling the anxiety of held breath, turning blue afraid to exhale If you look at these words and remember there was nothing left to lose, then you'll see      the meaning ― I don't need to hear you tell me to re-lock all the doors I wish I never opened; knowing there are still moments when it leaks out of my silence Someday, at first light, a songbird hearkens the morning dew's passage;   I’ll take heed a song of deliverance and rise up   from   bended knees ... but right now I’m still learning how to live alone Jesse e Stillwater
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May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 2:05 PM UTC
The Rising
the ever briggy snapperjab, once as trallhup as spacescrapers, had his woo jotty happenstance jejuned and nooned and i soon saw that i too was too much tooned in the known visible wavelurf where roving fate is ghosted by inexhorrorbull ringly meedecree of blingee choo choo Hist-o-Then ever since, my crave has castled me down into whitened gray limb petrify where diggy beclouded sendersave replaces
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Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 3:36 PM UTC
paper
Without so much as a burst of white light, without so much as a beclouded face, lingering — I want to go quietly now, like sawdust in a country road — like seafoam under a gray sunset. My mind insists on leaving.
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Jan 5, 2022
Jan 5, 2022 at 1:19 AM UTC
With Alaska
The moon hangs above me beclouded A pupil behind a milky cataract He knows night's words When he tells me them my eyes roll to whites My succubus drapes herself over me Her snakehair is such a mess They tell me love's words while biting at her ******* That woman is there in the window again black backlit cutout by yellow light so nicely framed She dances without moving I throw a rock at her window, and she stays motionless I flee terrified The winter forest draws snug its blanket snow unspoiled by track or trail My breath is smoke on the air The wastelands burn about me bergs of ***** bone They tell me of secret grottos in cool underground wherein water drip drip drips onto tombstones forever muted My longing lips crack and bleed My sunblind eyes drift skyward I scream for the vulture my friend to fly me down there
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Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 10:39 PM UTC
Night's Words
168 If the foolish, call them “flowers“— Need the wiser, tell? If the Savants “Classify” them It is just as well! Those who read the “Revelations” Must not criticize Those who read the same Edition— With beclouded Eyes! Could we stand with that Old “Moses”— “Canaan” denied— Scan like him, the stately landscape On the other side— Doubtless, we should deem superfluous Many Sciences, Not pursued by learned Angels In scholastic skies! Low amid that glad Belles lettres Grant that we may stand, Stars, amid profound Galaxies— At that grand “Right hand”!
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If the foolish, call them “flowers“
She by him like an angel always stood. Her presence often gave him true joy And warmth, her words were like food To his soul, and never was his love coy In her heart, nor was her affection with Guile beclouded too. She's a babe unique-- Decking out in virtue, diligence and divine wit, One that could make mortal men weak. Howbeit she has left him in the lurch all alone, His life and authorship to paddle on his own.
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Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 9:57 AM UTC
Left in the Lurch
waves orchestrate bruised kisses smack dazed moon’s beclouded stare numb teal canopy’s torn sinew strewn tidal riposte homeless debris scars shattered fins’ bullied silence screams callous world spawns grinding vice rabid avarice fuels dueling drive winds stir shifting sands gasp light eclipses night’s capricious rule noon darkness steep ransom’s paid earth salvaged true Son stands
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May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 6:42 AM UTC
repurchase
Just like the theory of floatation You swim in the arms of confusion You wonder about your situation As you wander in circulation Beclouded by so many distractions With contemplations You're not sure of your decision You wanna turn your vision into your future Yet you lack the concentration You down in depression But am here to tell you,put your shoes on Run the race like its a competition The key to unlock your vision isn't in the future You know where it is ?? Its right here ...in your possession But it ain't gonna get into action Until it feels your pre-actions All its waiting for is your reaction Just like the first law of motion You'll remain in the same state of situation Until your dream is acted upon Then will you make a progression You've got the passion But you lack the ignition With so much composure You make resolutions Neglecting the precautions Cos all you care about is the solution Looking for shortcuts to your destination Forgetting that life is a condition With no permanent situation , I know you've got aspirations But let your imagination Trigger your inspiration You were not born to Be in a stagnant position Its just a stage of probation Despise the population You're an exceptional creation Don't crave for attention Let your instinction get you your distinction Its gonna be a hard decision But I tell you The decision you make today will determine your position tomorrow
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May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
Decision
Everything is blurred: Beclouded and befogged. I need an illumination, as his smile captures my eyes. Dim and dusky, I ask myself, 'What's going on?' I need to be closer. But as I go closer, the harder for me to see... As the sound of his voice diminished as our distance from it increased. And it hits me-- a tear fell from my eye as his shadows gone for a while, like the chances we have-- blurred and fantasied.
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Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 8:09 AM UTC
Salinity
**There was never a soiree without her- Until the day everything changed. Strangely that night, all too blatantly Glasses clinked’, giggles echoed Inane but spirited chatter Churned together with the air The very air that had usurped her being And not left a trace behind Pallid evenings gave way to pallid daylight But like an inkblot in the night sky Her bright eyes and ever so fervent smile Were beclouded irreversibly Her pictures vanished and so did her memoirs So did keepsakes of her bleak existence A familiar kind of existence She breathed in every word ever said to her Cried with the morose, bumbled with the inebriated loner Cordially marveled at the disillusioned old man’s jokes Not too high-spirited and never overbearing An ever-smiling sponge- a beast of the worst kind of burden Devoid of desires, complains, broken dreams-apparently No one seemed to remember her at all Or notice she was gone. A raven sweeps over- a little boy stares, everything’s still the same No wretched tears about the girl who’d never bother a soul Never mind that she’s gone.**
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Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
Never Mind
if the sky were torn -which it is- the stitch inside your oblique would take the glow of sun beclouded and make it its own a cut carved into woundnomore numb is not a thing itself it waxes wanes waves of photon streeeeaaam crepuscular crawl of careened being pilfering life force vamp ***** siphon of tor it is yours to have all of it awaits your gait sidelong face lips pursed poised antidote to troll you are light on your feet because you are i think light of soul streaked and smeared across the Verse you hold space and black holes inside one small dixie cone cup pinky out you are writer written down this glyph is
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Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 7:23 PM UTC
this glyph
Beclouded by your thoughts I'm sitted in the darkness of love Should I go Or should I not ? This state of discombobulation Keeps me wandering with no destination I try to obliviate But my heart still aches It bleeds like an uncontrollable river flow that has no terminus Now its just me..no "us" The truth of our love is now false I'm lost Trying to find my way out of depression I scream for help No one hears Its just the voices in my head But none seems to be yours Now buried and gone is my trust When you were needed, you never showed up Well ,I guess your time is up And my love is finally lost .
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Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 5:36 AM UTC
Lost Love
drops of rain wet the left side of this thought all feels right as ray beclouded fury of were put behind me ******* finally
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Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 10:25 PM UTC
drip