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Big Virge Apr 2015
Am I ... alone ... ???
to be ... sick of these texts ... !!!

NOT ... text in books ... !!!
but ... telephone texts ... !?!

Text me this ...Text me that
if you text ... i'll text back

This texting ... has got people ...
Fighting like ... " Cats " ... !!!

If you're ... gonna send texts
Try ... READING ... my text ...
Before ... getting upset ... !!!

cos the words of my text
are making you ... " FRET " ... !!!

Or ... in the case of my ex ...
" Maybe " ... getting you wet ... ?!?

Here's how my text went....

"Okay if it suits
but i'm still loving you !
Kiss Kiss, from your lips,
to your, beautiful ****,
and finally kisses,
all over your **** !
Babe i'm missing you still
but distance for sure
is a real bitter pill !"

the reply that iI got was simply ...

... " F* Off ! " ...

Now this was a shock !!!
but ... not to my ... socks ... !!!

More ...
A feeling of ... HEAT ... !!!
cos maybe ... my text
made my ex ... start to leak ... ???

Now girls ...
Don't be ... Wetting ...
bedcovers ... or sheets ...
cos' words that i'm using
DEFINE ... " ****** Peaks " ... !!!

It's merely a ... Text ...
that got my ex ... VEX ... !!!
but why ... ???
cos my words ...
referred to her ... chest ...
Her Chest ... was the ... BEST ... !!!!!

" Natural DD's "

HELL YES ... it was nice ...
when I gave them a squeeze ... !!!!!!!!!!

Sometimes ... having *** ...
made my chest start to .... " Wheeze " .... !!!!!

But now ... She's Flown ...
like a bird ... on a breeze ...

So now i'm ... " Enjoying " ...
My Own ... company ...

Doing ...

WHAT I PLEASE ... !!!!!

cos' fellas ... You Know ...
Most Girls ... give you ... " GRIEF " ... !!!!!!

That's something ... a woman ...
Will give you for ... FREE ... !!!!!!!!!!!

So texting is something
I DON'T ... want to see ... !!!
cos' women ... now use it ...
like ... Woods uses tees ... !!!!

to .... SMASH ....
Your new golf ball
right into ... " The Trees " ... !!!!!
and then you're all ... lost ... ?!?
like a ... " Helpless Puppy " ...

... " Wondering " ...

"Where the hell can that nice ***** be ?!?"

Trust me ... when I say this
I LOVE ... A Female ...

But ....
when texts ... set sail ...
it's like trying to read
A ... half written ... e-mail ... !?!

Some men are the same !!!

You send them a text ...
to arrange a ... golf game ...
but they send one back
on a ... Different Subject ... ???

I wonder if ... these dummies
know their own name !!!!!

Yet again ...
This is ... TRUE ... !!!

So .....
What would you do ... ?

if you texted a girl
you'd sexed like a **** ... !!!
having lied to your girl
cos' you ... " thought " ...
You were ... " Smart " ...

Now the little minx ... KNEW ... !!!
Your coup and ... " Played Cool " ...
Until she .... REALISED
she was ... " Falling for you " ... !!!

Then the ...
" Texting War " ... starts ... !!!
You drift ..................................... far apart
then ... one day you text ...
but her ... form of reply ...
is a lone ... " Question Mark " ... ?

It's like ...
They'd rather ... DIE ... ?!?
than give a ... " Reply " ...

Girls use this ... as if ...
it's their ... " O2 Supply " ... !?!

but reply ... just in time ...
to remain ... "in your mind" ...

See ......
These are the girls ...
I DON'T ... want to find ... !!!!!
cos' actions like this ...
now leave me ... " Perplexed " ... ???

and women like this ...
... " REALLY " ...
Make Me ... VEX ... !!!!!!!

See ... this is what happens ...
So now you're like ... WHAT ... !?!

But ....

What do you say ?
to someone who ... uses ...
" Texting " ... in this way ...

The *** was ... GREAT FUN ... !!!
but the end ... WASN'T GREAT ... !!!!

But this is what happens
when you play ... " Away Games " ... !!!!!

So Yes ... I CONFESS ... !!!
I have a ... " Complex " ...
About ... mobile phones ....
and what's ... " Coming Next " ... !!!!!

Technology's ... KILLING ...
The Art of ... " Straight Talk " ... !!!!!

Things used to be ... CLEAR ...
when text ... Wasn't Here ... !!!!!

But now that it's come ...
I'm now ... " On The Run " ... !!!
from people who like ...
to ... "hide behind texts" ...
and women ... who'd rather ...
send texts ... than have ... *** ... ?!?

cos' i've now ... had ... ENOUGH ...
of ... " Duff Stuff " ... !?!

sent by ....

..... " Text " ....
Some personal experiences & thoughts on how the Technological Revolution, has affected basic forms of human communication ...
Westley Barnes Apr 2012
Regardless of the contrast or depth of the lens, it all depends on where the
light falls.
Streetlights glowing,
Like bedcovers laying,
Over the harbour waters inky as
Freshly-spilled car-crash blood,
Reflecting deep as a thought can penetrate.

A parade of gunfire
Startles silent rage into the frightened round-up locals
Eyes cowering and arms raised like scarecrow’s overhanging,
While in a side-alley doorway
A soldier anxiously caresses
A girl who he will never speak to again
The tequila-resembling sun standing watch
Their sole clandestine companion.

A child is given relieving news,
Having arrived not without frustrated effort
That she no longer has to follow the same life-stifling routine.
Her doctor, after the dizzying business of congratulating her parents,
Looks out his window without witnessing their departure
Until his eyes are cast back to dispersion
Appreciating fresh rain turn a week’s snowfall
Into puddles upon the ground.

The mind resists the heart’s attempt to repress,
We resist our own borders admitting a consistency of strain
Memory indulging in a fleeting spectacle of sin,
The Sickly exterior of the heart’s delight.

Regardless of the contrast or depth of the lens, it all depends on where the
light falls.
Moments throughout our lives repeated in the stock footage of the
mind,washing thoughts matted out of stark exposure
seeding out  a negative frame.
Lora Lee Apr 2016
So many emotions tonight
I just cannot keep
them in
They are bursting out
from this jar of stars
that I keep next to my bedside
and tonight I couldn't
close it tight
if I tried
yes they are erupting out
as the lid
flies to the skies
messy emotions everywhere,
all over the
bedcovers
spilling onto the carpet
over my fingers as I attempt
to catch them
now I see
that the stellar energy,
just busting
through the ceiling,
up through the roof
and over the stratosphere
is mine
it seems that
I am going for a night- ride
amongst those
brightly encoded particles
sensory endings a-glow
reaching out like starfish
infinite pieces of our being
as they meet the forces beyond
I am rushing through those
night clouds
fluidity floating
trying to understand it all
attempting to know why
How can I make it right
How can things get back on path
And then I realize
This is it…
The path
I am on it
the pieces
       will come back together
only after
they freely
unabashedly
shatter
Jonathan Witte Oct 2016
I

She’s sleepwalking again,
my nine-year-old daughter,
who shares the bedroom
with her sister down the hall.
She’s kicked off the covers
and wandered downstairs,
somnambulant, her bare feet
moving as though in a dream
across the kitchen’s linoleum
floor to the back of the house.
The porch door smacks shut—
a gunshot—and she is gone.

For a time, I watch her from
the open bedroom window.
Her diaphanous nightgown
absorbs August moonlight.
She steps slowly, a pale flame
floating across the back field,
the wiregrass up to her knees,
avoiding a copse of redbuds,
skirting shrubs and stones.

When her small figure succumbs
to shadow at the edge of the trees,
I put on my bathrobe and follow.

II

At first, she is lost to me.
I break into a delirious run,
scratched on my cheek
by a redbud branch.
Reaching the tree line,
I see her standing still,
shoulders stooped,
a luminous cattail
bending down.

She hovers above a sleeping fawn,
the warm bundle curled at her feet.
I contemplate the white spots
scattered on fur, thinking, velvet stars.

But when I place a hand
on my daughter’s shoulder
I see blood flowing fresh
from the doe’s abdomen;
red entrails slipping out,
pooling on pine needles.
Stepping closer, I remember a moment
earlier that evening: a jar of preserves
spilled carelessly on the kitchen’s stone counter,
the soft dishtowel soaking scarlet in my hand.

At the edge of the creek, a second doe
watches us with opaque, joyless eyes.
My daughter puts her finger to her lips;
the doe tenses, blinks, and bolts away.

I lift my daughter and carry her carefully
home, her head buried in my shoulder,
blades of grass clinging to my bare feet.

III

My daughters' room:
holding her in weak arms, poised
to lay her on top bedcovers,
I notice her sister’s empty bed,
neatly made, the blankets smooth
and tight across the mattress.

An anemic moth bangs
against the window pane.

The light flicks on and suddenly
I am awake, remembering all of it:
the dry diagnosis, the slow whir
of hospital machines, the smell
of old flowers, and somewhere
in my daughter’s stomach,
the cruel mathematics
of cells metastasizing.

My wife stands in the doorway,
her hand on the light switch.
My arms are empty. I gaze
down and see our daughter
nestled under covers,
breathing softly, asleep.

I see the pale white skin of my clean bare feet.

You’re sleepwalking again, my wife says.
She touches my unsullied cheek, hooks her
fingers through mine, and shuffles me down
the hall to bed. Head sinking into the pillow,
I gaze out the open bedroom window and weep.

The moonless sky cradles its constellations:
bright grains of salt scattered on soapstone;
my hand trembles, unable to wipe them away.
Chenoa Jul 2010
The morning came without promise,
A heaviness weighing on my heart
As the minutes lengthened upon the bed.
Motivation lost, frustration returned
At full strength from the day before.
The sigh of seasons escaping my lips
As I resigned myself to the pillows.
But then a soft sound tickled my ear,
A gentle bedside mewing sort of trill…
And looking over saw the green globes
Of the patient and insistent feline
That shares the shelter of my home.
For a second, my woes forgot to linger
And the beginnings of a smile unwound
The stubborn knots inside my chest.
Then looking away, annoyed by the
Sweetness of the interruption,
I willingly returned to my brooding.
But the feline trilled again, stretching
His white-gloved paw to my face,
Tugging the pillowy bedcovers with
Such benign insistence as a parent.
Refusing the request I hid beneath the layers,
Shutting out Aurora and her chirping fellows.
But the feline trilled again and,
Abandoning my sheets, leapt upon the desk.
I listened as he shuffled about,
Sliding keys and cards and books around.
My voice called out in warning
And he paused in his task, waiting.
But when I continued to hide in bed
He started again, working fervently now.
Again I called a warning.
His response silence… and then…
A pile of books hit the carpeted floor.
My hand reached the pillow
And launched it at the good feline
Who watched as it sailed right past him.
He mewed again, and I returned
To the covers… pillow-less.
One more time he tugged at the sheets,
Before choosing another possession of mine.
A set of keys this time, then a cup of coins.
The annoyance increased until finally,
He chose the harshest persuasion of all.
Carefully, he crept along the tabletop
placing a delicate white paw on
Matching shutters, pushing lightly.
The sun! Oh the wonderful, wretched sun!
Light! Not even the covers can save me now.
At last I rise, flying at the troublesome cat
Whose swift, practiced feet escape me.
He speeds through to the far end of home,
And crouches near the hearth,
His eyes bright with amusement and victory.
I'm laughing now as he takes off again,
Me following his progress until I have him.
His sweet voice trills playfully as he rolls,
Exposing the wide, gray-speckled belly,
And I attack!
My hand descends, fingers like claws,
And a noise escapes my throat.
Fur and fingers mesh as I madly rub his belly,
As some would with a beloved canine,
Playfully chastising him for drawing me from bed.
He purrs as I laugh and take him in my arms,
Burying my face in the warm, soft fur.
We sit like that for a while before he squirms away
And leads me to his empty food bowl,
Eyes joyful and expectant now.
As the pellets hit ceramic, I find myself at ease.
Whatever lingering self-pity is now gone,
And as I leave for daily duties,
He's there by the door, awaiting the
Routine stroke of the fur on his head.
Then when I return to home, tired
and deflated from the day, he is there to greet me,
weaving about my legs and mewing sweetly.
And in the evening, when phone calls are done
And dinner has been had, he settles upon
My small lap… his mass solid, warm and reassuring
Easing me to sleep with his deep purring…
Until morning comes once more
And it starts all over again.
so this is about my cat, Boots, and this stuff actually happens. He's too smart for his own good and knows all the right buttons to push and get out of trouble. But most of all, he's one of the greatest companions ever, so this is for him.
Tuesday.


It was Tuesday late in the day when we met

It was raining so hard we were both soaking wet.

I talked to her like she was an old friend

And realised soon, I didn’t want this to end.

So I said,

Fancy a coffee?

Even though it was late.

She grinned and said,

Shall we call this a date?

And we talked as we walked

And it got really late

I said, let me walk you home, at least to your gate.

We got to her house and she said, coming for a drink?

Yes please I replied, I didn’t need to think.

The evening passed to morning

We laughed and we joked

And saw the new day dawning.

Then we kissed and my heart missed a beat

Then we kissed again a double measure,neat.

Her lips tasted of the morning mist and once again we tenderly kissed

Then undressed as the suns rays hit the counterpane

And I knew I’d never be the same.

I kissed her eyes her neck her ears

It nearly brought this grown man to tears.

She whispered don’t rush just take your time

And you and me will make each other mine.

If I ever thought that I wanted to die

I now know for sure that this was a lie.

She made me want to live,She made me want to give

And after when we felt just so her cat jumped up and bit my toe.

But we laughed and began to touch and I wanted her so much.

Then later over a cup of tea she said,

Does that mean you really like me?

Yes, I said, I really love your feet and my heart skipped another beat

I love the way you sway I love the things you say

Your nakedness is branded on my brain

My heart was racing like a train.

She smiled and said, I like you too

I said, I want to make love with you.

And though I’ve not had to many lovers

She took me under her bedcovers

And heavens did she make me moan and yell

By doing,

Well,
A gentleman does not tell.

And then the bell went clang the telephone rang

I opened my eyes and to my surprise

I was alone in my room it might as well be a tomb

Just another ******* though for a while it did seem

So so real So so good.

But then I suppose it would.
Courtney Oct 2021
You
Were the human embodiment
Of all my fears:
The manifestation
Of all my monsters.
Yet,
If you came knocking
I’d open the closet-
Pull up the bedcovers-
Turn back to the dark mirror-
And invite you back in.
R Saba Jan 2014
i guess i just hoped i could wake up
like i always do, only alive
throw the bedcovers from my
aching, beating body
leave the curtains open
because i don't feel like hiding
keep my head up, keep the air flowing
out of breath, but in sync
and through pain or whatever comes my way
feel it all, feel everything

but no
i woke up like i always do, grey
slowly disentangled myself
from the crumpled blue sheets
left the curtains closed
because the pointing fingers are everywhere
kept my head down, kept the air controlled
through my lungs, out of time
and through pain or whatever came my way
i felt nothing
yeah, that
Lucky Queue Sep 2017
i wake up.

the room around me is earth; red, radiating, crumbly.
i sift the bedcovers through my fingers next to my cheek.
an arm, heavy over my waist, shifts with the warmth behind me.
carrots sprout from between knuckles; purple, white, gold.

i wake up.

the piles of leather tomes as if dust was blown away just a moment ago.
warm skin behind me just a little more solid; the smell of carrots and earth a little less sharp.

i wake up.

the walls have receded and sun is pouring over my legs.
only a couple feathery green tops remain and the arm is held tighter to my body.
dusty rectangular outlines on the dresser and floor.

i wake up... and open my eyes
9.15.17
Shiloh Harmitt Oct 2013
We converse
no, we toy with conversation
each word a building block of sentences
that tumble

- we start again

as I take your old age for child play
placing one sentence upon another
suddenly you’ll remember who I am
you giggle into the dark warmth of your bedcovers

- only to re-emerge

bemused
by a world of scattered toys and broken memories.
Emily Grace May 2012
She floated around her little city in the clouds all day, alone
Here were so many things to be touched, to be observed, such a very long time to languish
This was a paradise inside, this weightless world of whites, and deep resonant blues
Where the sky was always a surprise

It was her salvation from the long empty days of fear
Alone and broken amongst the ***** blankets of her makeshift bed
He came home at the end of every the day, expecting to find her waiting  for him
Wreathed in ecstatic smiles because she could finally hold him in her arms after a long day of solitude

But even love cannot negate the slow disintegration of a soul left too long in isolation
Or of a cowardly heart that can no longer create for fear that it is not creative enough
He often knelt beside the pile of bedcovers in which she was entombed
Her eyes, gazing far beyond him to a place he could never even see

Slowly, he coaxed her to come back to him, hands gentling her soft and empty head
Even as he drew her back, his guts clenched with melancholy for she would not thank him for it
She gazed at him as her doe eyes began to fill and spill over
She gripped his hand with surprising strength as all her chaotic rage sprang out from behind her eyes
Spouting out of her mouth as rivers of lava
Simon Quperlier Jul 2014
would you believe me if i gave my truth?
the inner joy i found on my path,
simplicity and happiness over wrath,
kindness and love breeding faith,
all the glory i've rediscovered,
blessings overlaid by bedcovers,
intelligence beyond Harvard,
and the devil I smothered,
people i empowered,
my life has transcended the norms,
shifting and shaping itself into new forms,
rejuvenated and rebuilt broken homes,
so i've found peace,
meditation or pray on my knees,
so the heart can smile and pump with ease,
freedom is complete,
magnificence is the projection of my nature,
expansion of the soul to talk to the creator,
human essence is the nomenclature,
i am the light,
with a faculty of extreme might,
perspective is never oblique,
cause i see with a different technique,
and apply the philosophy of the ancient greek
Leroy J Harris Mar 2014
Toblin's carriage came to a halt.
As Princess Andulan the Silenced approached.
Holding a withered apple in one claw.
She sent her servants scattering with a violent gesture.
Moving with her dress held above the muddy path ahead.
She shed no tears for the dead.
Nor for Sharin's lost children,
Instead it was shown.
She had wed herself eternal.
To the countenance of one whose song has been silenced.

Death denied and sealed away,
   Meant she hadn't aged a day,
Since her thirteenth birthday.
Spent with her loving father,
Jealous sisters, twins linked by envy,
They whispered foolishly from their bedcovers,
Colluded with one another to diminish her,
Because she couldn't wring their necks,
It went on unabated.

Spoiled by treasures of war,
Entitled by conquest and power,
She occupied herself and others plenty,
With her every need and whim.

Rob of years sorely removed,
From either crown or privilege,
Shied away from politics, a boring brother.
Non-combative and defensive.
Amidst royal battlefields,
Internal conflicts far removed from,
Outward appearances of serene stability,
To reassure the coddled and subjugated masses,
Familial affection served to maintain those welts of submission,
Bitten into common, gamey flesh once wild and unsophisticated.

We gave them purpose where none existed, put value in place.
Of lives spent surviving.

Still he was upbeat and eager to practice,
With a violin seemingly attached to his person,
Like an inseparable portion of his soul or,
Vital *****.
        His hands were crafted to bring music to voids,
Unseen yet made felt by all,
Once her melodies were given voice once more,
Sharin's tears melted our hearts,
Dissolved our rage, hatred, resentments,
Causing evaporation to occur,
Ousting us from internecine nonsense,
Rob took from us that goblet of poison,
Seldom parted from by choice.
He knew and accepted his call.
Retreating to it whenever royal squabbles,
Tried to drown out his song.
Rob out-shined us all.
Remember you I shall, my dear Rob...
Redshift Jun 2015
casually observing my body from the outside
watching me fall apart
my face sliding off my cheeks
my abdomen rotting
my hands and feet lying listlessly against my bedcovers.

i have become a bystander
a slightly curious stranger
keeping an eye on the ****** on the street -
me
watching my antics
wondering at my behavior
cringing at the pathetic pleading that stretches from my eyes
to my toes
to his phone screen

i wonder how long she can carry on
before her head blurs in its motion
before her hands claw together
before she smolders out
a wait and see
sort of game
how long
can she
last
how fast
is too fast
how much
is too much
how long
before he leaves her alone again
Molly Dec 2014
Remember trying to blow smoke rings
in my bed, and how
you always looked after me
when things got rough,
but you couldn't look after yourself,
white found it's way up your nose.

Now it's gripping your brain
the money and the glamour of it all.
I can't see myself in you,
barely yourself in you.

To be in love is a disease,
relying on drugs incessantly
and I can't breathe when I see him,
he's not even talking to me.
I know in myself he's not worth ****
but it lives in the depths of me
the feeling of utter worthlessness
hopelessness and jealousy.

There's no bedcovers on my duvet
I'm just wallowing in my own
sadness and illness
and I can smell you in every inch of this room.

I'm going away, maybe I'll stay away,
but homesickness is so hard to remedy
when home isn't home anymore.
Tanushree Verma Jul 2020
She breathed inside her mother for nine months,
Her weight nowhere near tons.
There were dreams for her waiting to be fulfilled,
Of how she'll laugh and their home would build.
Everyone was waiting to hear her first cry,
To hold those small hands and feet; oh my my!
Her arrival was being anxiously waited for,
But she decided to give a pain that has no cure.
She never got a chance to open her tiny eyes,
To hide things under bedcovers and tell some lies.
She missed on feeling fresh air brushing against her face,
She left this world without any memories and trace.
She had to see and feel the nature's beauty,
Had to be held in mother's love and father's protective custody.
She had lots of love to receive and same to give,
Dead in her mother's womb, the little babygirl never got a chance to live.
In the memory of an angel❤
Donna Nov 2017
Peeking out of her
bedcovers , the morning sun
gives a hello yawn

She puts on her grey
fluffy slippers to warm her
winter chilly feet

Then she sits back in
her orange dressing gown and
as a lazy day

+++++
I so want a lazy day hurry up weekend :besides that the sun is lazy in winter :)
Iyallo Nov 2020
I sit on my back with my legs high in the sky,
I sit to find, I am on a wet and musky
rock , I sat once and found pale grass,
while now the rain like storm sprouts life like annual grass.

A storm that strikes thunders on the ground,
each space is submerged into a dark and deep sound,
while water aggregates in rivers,
the worlds of people enter bedcovers.
Caitlin Sharif Apr 2020
Wake me up to the
Scent of your sleeping skin and
Wrinkled linen sheets.
Wake me up to the sound of
Steady breath
And the gentle stirring of our bodies
Side by side.

Fast forward to the afternoons
Where sunshine streams through windows,
Only to settle in glowing patches
Between the contours of your face.
Where a single clock is
Nowhere to be found
And time stands still.

Take me upstairs
With a half-crooked grin
For the after-dinner rituals.
Carry me to your steamy world as
We explore beneath bedcovers
And make new discoveries
For hours at a time.

So my darling, save me from all this
Eardrum noise
And whisk me to the days where
Your arms are my refuge
Your voice is my song  
And our love is simply  
Living.

It grows and moves
Over time and distance combined.
It leads us to the days where
Every day will be “the day” and
Every morning we will wake up to the
Scent of sleeping skin and
Wrinkled linen sheets.

Where our rested bodies will finally breathe
Side by side.
Jason Cheney Feb 2021
It's the dead of night
My nerves strung extremely tight

4:30 a.m., I come awake with a start
I just hate life when at this hour my eyelids do part

My body aches, I need to relax
I'm so exhausted, my energy, this day will definitely tax

My brain cries out for needed relief
I hunger for sleep, I shout in disbelief

Why Again? when I desperately need to sleep
It doesn't work counting those naughty sheep

My mind races a million miles an hour
I might as well get up and go take a shower

But I continue to lie in bed
Sooo, I write this testy poem instead

Hoping that my eyelids will start to droop
Knowing in vain that my lost energy, I'll never recoup

An hour gone by
I angrily let out a tremendous sigh

Each tic toc of the clock doth ensue
Wistful dreams of sleep I'll not get to pursue

As the minutes and hours continue
My fond dreams of sleep now gone; flabbergasted, I know it's terribly true

Only a little while longer till I get up for work
My body hurts, but my job I cannot shirk

My wife's alarm clock goes off at 6
¡Oh fiddlesticks!

I guess my restless night is over
I wish it was just starting as I throw off my bedcovers  

Written by:
Jason Cheney
December 2, 2020
Arlene Corwin Mar 2020
It was dead of night, 2:30 a.m. when I awoke with unbidden memories clear as day, and subsequent ideational poetry in my head.  It all became (under bedcovers with flashlight, pad and felt tip pen) this: which may require two readings or more.

            The Hourglass Of Time ⏳
  (an awakening in the dark of night)

Shape, form, hope, dream, name, fame
Sifting through the hourglass of endless time -
Seamless, endless, untamed time.

Reactive in the night a.m.
Drifting in and out of ‘I am’,
Why the lingering of memory,
The self biography
Coming back with age,
Links welding chains of change
So strong and strange?

Why, because it must,
When revelation bites the dust,
The fuss when dust itself is shifting,                                        
Sifting through time’s hourglass,
Time’s powerglass?

Passing (one-can-only guess)
Through structureless unclearness
And a consciousness of moment’s movement which,
Because of pause-less laws, effect and cause,                        
Course charted by some unseen force,
A nameless, undivided source:
What Is the message?

I’ve a hunch it was a master stroke
That woke me up, shook me up -
Ideas that spoke
With images clear and opaque;
Feats feeling fake, mistakes my earthquake,
Baked into aches of un-achievement
Which cemented the reality;
A revelation dark and light, the naked night
Revealed to me  (for all to see eventually.)
The Hourglass Of Time 3.4.2020 Revelations Big&Small; Arlene Nover Corwin
Connor K Feb 2015
You, you sweet soul who broke things off. I remember the day you to told me that you loved me. Ferocious feelings that broke from your lips in a stampede. Where did that wild cat go. Once upon a time felt so right with us, happenstance what the only reason we met. Sweet soul, what changed to turn my name on your lips into a curse, so suddenly your feelings changed, you must not have loved even yet. I suppose I was a pick me up, a sweet place to rest your head when stress was too much. I called you my queen and you said I was your castle. Hindsight is 20 20 and I realize now that should have been my first clue. I wasn't your love or your sweet salvation, I was walls, bricks, and mortar, a place to hide from the storm. I was your bedcovers on a cold evening when you're all alone. I was your pillow for you to lay your head. I thought I was comfort food for your soul, but it turns out I was just a bandaid. Sweet soul, what happened to happily ever after?
Travis Green Aug 2021
Sleeping with him under the bedcovers
My clandestine thoughts all about him
A cool mood dude with a warm, refreshing smell
Ample details in his butter-bright skin
Spinning sweetness that surfaces around his
Profound town, dulcet, **** voice I adore to explore
Hover high in every sound, be bound
To his crowned galaxy, his rhapsody
His sheer verbs that whirl wondrously
On his gratifying body, prolific prose
That flows below his underground oceans
Carrying me deep down under to where his
Solo dopeness electrifies the spellbound vowels
That slips out of my mouth and traverses
To where your allure shines significantly around me

— The End —