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Lyn Senz Nov 2013
Dripping wet emotions
with defensive underwear
tripping ghetto potions
an expensive teddybear

you're a wordy birdy whiddler
of some truth I wouldn't know
and I'm a hurdy gurdy fiddler
of some sooth I shouldn't show

you alight a quiet yearning
you aflame my frozen soul
feels so right the night so burning
but I don't claim my chosen goal

in the blissless listless morning
I begin again to go
you're a kissless mistress scorning
any kin my sin will sow

and the end my friend is calling
my life petty all alone
will she tend and end my falling
or be a pretty little stone


©2012 Lyn
Marie Warner Sep 2010
Lower and lower I sunk
Took a hit of the skunk
Heart races
Cold embraces
Feel the fear burn your eyes
Numb,
Fake,
Cry.
One more light,
And then I'm high.
****.
Rebekah Burke Mar 2016
Inconspicuous suicide
of all incompetent men-
The void of fallen consciousness;
Maleficent darkness
of what was
Now is.
Meagan Berry Oct 2011
I've figured out why its harder
to write poetry when
you're happy:
No one wants to hear
about the butterflies in
your stomach
or the rainbows
you projectile *****
across every surface.
People relate better
to the days spent curled beneath
six, thick layers of Grandma's quilts
and Auntie Cath's baby blankets.
They understand
the puffy, pink eyes that are
so swollen you can barely see
Tonight's featured chick flick.
They can imagine
the isolated nights spent
crying into a cheap glass of Merlot.
But
for some reason we can't picture happiness.
We can't associate with the unicorns and
marshmallows for the fear that
we might lose ours
and slip into that
blissless reality.
This truest love, triumphantly
   is a bird of prey
marauding 'twain these grayest skies and tenured gain
dine with blessed distinction,
feathered queen!
And any mice caught in between-
   For does my love in summer's rain
prey on the solace of my nightly dreams

Do gauge my love as span of wings
   the distance 'tween each finger
Her wings are spread and through the sky
she soars in arcs and swirls
Each and every blissless night,
   she passes coyly o'erhead,
The curtain in my blood unfurls
and this presence ever lingers-

Perched aloof and tauntingly in a bending oak
she says: "These stars that hover
             above the sky I disbelieve-
           Their palaver, quaint and lasting,
             I disbelieve-
They grip and guide my flutters as an ever-tightn'ng yoke."
Each hand I place o'er the other,
'til each branch is a rung, ladder to the moon.
Said: "And coldly does this horrib' moon smile,
        she laughs 'til my tail is the dust
        each stroke of hours and minutes speak to me
        this cunning moon pours in our hearts this lust-
           How could these shambles any trust?"
This sky, though blacken'd,
cannot rend apart what's happened,
and all it sees with terrible eyes
can prevent not this love fore'er mend-

She glode politely out o' reach,
To soar delightly by me-
Said: "I see the jilted morning glory
           bowing to the moon.
       Each stalk twines traitoriously
           a capsulating swoon-
       Each fruit it bears bequeathes 'nto me
       callous forms of elliptic bracts,
       eats as nothing more than flax-"

For every morning glory's betray'l
I'll harvest ten thousand Orchids from the meadow's fringe,
plucked from the margins of the bog-
This love is not a passing arc
that follows does that jealous moon-
I'll trek the acid, foy an' dinge,
and, if those mice do not erstwhile dine on this orchid's seeds,
that which lays dormant, 'neath the leaves
will send up freshly blooming stalks.
Harry Gross Mar 2010
I wish I could but am grateful I cannot
find the perfect word in my dirt-edged dictionary to describe this feeling
because all is not perfect.

I have lived and relived one hundred moves and counter-moves
not knowing black from white, simply wanting to need
to trap your affections beneath rock or steel as fits my schemes.
One hundred moves for every star in the sky of each wilting night,
and in the midst of a single breath –

a breath like one I swear we’ve shared
on couch or on fencepost in awkward happenstance

– this mind of mine manipulates
  all inadequate allegory, all incomplete comparison
  trying to condense into a single sentiment
  the breadth of that which my chest can rarely contain
and disposes of each in turn.

For words,
the countless words I know by sight and by sound,
would rather not comply.
If only they'd meet the demands of such a meager man,
this torment, this voiceless howl
calling me to blissless inaction
could find solace in this feeling.

They claim and they have said
over again for the misty-eared among us:
Love bears all things.
Yet the beast inside contests:
Bears love all things.
For this is not Love but an Eternal beast
a beast, a Bear, which thrives regardless
of my pain or pleasure
– striking out from the rotting memory of your chiseled touch.
Jack R Fehlmann Jun 2015
Owning only stolen air,
I function, uniquely
To gently own the unseen
Felt feelings, I look to master,
The tiniest remnants,  tattered
Torn and misappropriation rule
Fantastic forbidden fragment
Fall into hell, held, unshared
No podium,...
no  speaker,...
nor a crowd, of any sorts stirring
Aggitating,  aggrieved masses
slaves in their blissless mindset
Sarah Jystad Feb 2010
As long as you are at the center of the earth
Or the edge of the universe,
Hell will never enter your existence,
Your experience.
Once, flaws embrace, sin sought with haste,
You can reject disgrace, attack commonplace,
But all were misplaced,

Without a trace.
Disappear.
Without fear.
Now,It is worth anything.
Other than avoiding fate.
It is never too late.

Face the sense evidence:
A blade of grass, a tender touch, a slice of sky,
One piece of sand holds billions of lives,
However fleeting, however insignificant,
All unending, all replicants.
The warm sun embraces your face’s unstable, tedious nature;
The earth steps on you as erratically as your feet follow you instincts;
The wind refuses to help you succeed in life
Except for a nice breeze;
The stars shine for your hope, for your passion
But they flicker.

The universe is relative –
Shocked crystal glass shards shared
Among the blissful crowd abusing the floor
With their tranced feet and ceaseless beat.

Or
Blissless Hypnosis,
Soul lost, listless,
Embracing shears and splinters
Of sneers and tears.
They merely bicker and snicker,
Trade fingerpoints and lies,
But forgive in time-
Who can bear to live alone?
And so, they retreat,
Return to the white strings of
Existence;
They compete
On who can fabricate a better
Phantom sheet.

Or
Slash the shoelace ties,
Fraternal, maternal,
Return all the beats, rhythms, revisions,
Riffs, myths, cysts.
Live on inflated lifeboats shrouded in mist.

Your haunting, taunting dark amethyst eyes with
Decorations of admiration exist:

As strong as –
As special as –
As much as –
As harmless as –
As constant as –

A grey, limp piece of neck string,
An empty swing,
A melancholy molecule of water dripping,
A monarch armed with thorn swords on its wings,
All of the things
Arbitrary and inconsistent
As existence.

The universe laughs at individuality,
The stars sob, pitying those persistent dancers
Who stomp their feet on sheets of glass.

The hypnotist smirked,
Phantoms never could resist the redundancyOf hell.
12/08
Dan Hess Sep 2014
Oh, Henrietta come to me, my queen of what's forgotten
In life you were a troubled thing, and now you have but rotten
A misdemeanor commonplace to you who sees the world
Your liveliness has been erased, and with it, thoughts unfurled  

Oh, Henrietta come to me, now, whisper in my ear
For what can be made of a blissless journey, when you have disappeared?
pin Jun 2015
Yet your hands get so ****** on your side
A broken nose
Connect the dots
Beg for flowers
Wilted flowers
Anything leftover
Maybe in the sweat there is some love
That hasnt evoprated yet
Gaze into the eyes,
Found an unknown newborn blissless ignorance
Only knows the sky is blue
And cruelty is not something
Brandnew
Parker J Birr Mar 2016
Dishes surround us,
Verdigris embraces lusterless metal
And I look at you with an air of vertigo
I’m on the edge of understanding but there’s
An invisible wall.  
Or is it a ceiling?
So this is what it feels like to be restrained
Shackles of my mind rattle against their firm anchor
Society crushes these spikes deeper into my skull
The taste of defeat suffuses my lungs.
I breathe in your disdain and still understand nothing
Of what I’ve done or am doing.
I go forth ignorant and blissless
Straining to overcome the walls in my head
The lack of understanding men (myself included) have of the societal issues that we assume are right or wrong and the stereotypes we don't even realize.
Towers of youth blinded my path.
As i bathed in his aura, his Hold ,his grasp.
Pounding , convulsing my heart in my chest, uncontroled illusions of bliss soon passed.
Hatred unspoken growing in time
Like the flyer in the night to the fire i did fly.
Every smile in fraud every kiss his sweet lie, spoken to me in the dark or in night.
His token his treasure , his little hidden life,no more i said my eyes blind to only his smile.
From ash i emerged empowered by new life , reborn from his torture his dark blissless mind.
One hand shields my heart , one fist for the fight but finally the world saw me for my might.
In tune ,in tone my song no longer shy
Emerging to this new world
Consumed by my own light
Trust love like you would trust a stray cat, from a distance its wonderful upclose its danger with claws
JjJ98 Sep 2016
Send me the scent of a blissless silence,
No need for elegance or poise.
Send me something to clear my mind with,
Just something to break the noise.

I may not grasp the elements bountiful,
Yet I see them clearer than you.
And it can't be seen, the shade of beautiful
Beyond a palette of blue.

Though how ironic is this impairment,
That I see beyond the pale.
And oh how chronic is my despairment,
In the search of a great white whale.
Bob B Oct 2016
Lest we hopeful humans forget
That glory ever fades,
Dashing hopes of permanence.
Ah, the ace of spades.

The morning dew on leaves and blossoms
Evaporates in the sun,
Bearing deep significance
When all is said and done.

Holding on to attempts to glimpse
Into eternity
Defrauds the mind that wants to believe
What wasn't meant to be.

What was, what is, and what shall be
Will manifest despite
All attempts to categorize
What is wrong or right.

Relaxing into the universe--
Into the constant flow--
We release the bonds, the fetters,
Of what we think we know.

That must be the ultimate--
The effortless release,
Blissless bliss, beingless being,
Indescribable peace.

- by Bob B
Dan Hess Jul 2019
Behest affectations
Of ichorous
Vermillion hues

Whence wrought
The hapless news
Of old and botched
but brilliant muse

A portentous ruse
Thence propagates

How
Be it made
in essence
Can the fleeting mind
Betroth itself
To ineffable haze

As languish
In ethereal
suspension

I am recognized
in blindness' gaze
And souled to apprehension

Psychic binds within the mind
Which tie to tides of indecision
Droll and blind,
detracted vision

Penetrated ambiance
An effulgence of madness,
driven
Forced into the everlasting

Armor of the psyche,
casting
In avasting sorrow,
perpetration

Squandered passion,
true elation
To an empty haven
Of the sanity's forsaken

In blissless bemusement
unfounded mitigation
perforates the soul

Reiterate the whole of instigation wrought from voided innocence

I am duplicitous indifference
which inference dispenses of

— The End —