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G Rog Rogers Aug 2017
-Lyrix
-Rockn' Jazz

Cruise my way
to the West Coast
Maybe make the beach
by June or July

Oh it really doesn't matter
No it really doesn't matter

Those blond
blue eyed surfer girls
Me I'll be stranded,
standing and a staring

and Me I'll be breezing
Me Pacific 'n Breezing

Maybe I'll go
And maybe I will stay
If you're looking for me
Look out there in LA

LA I finally made it
LA I'm on my way
through your mountains
Oh it's down onto the beach
out into the streets You know to Downtown LA

Oh you know it's LA
with the wind at your back
and a song that I heard
on the way

Me I'll be breezing
Me Pacific 'n Breezing

Got me a place
on Pacific
Take me a room
on Breeze Avenue

You know it really matters
Everything matters

Dreaming in the
City of the Angels
Living my life the
Angel Town way
A breeze in my face
There never was
a place like LA

and I'll breeze Her
Me Pacific 'n Breezing

Cruise my way
to the West Coast
Maybe make the beach
by June or July

You know it really matters
Everything really matters

and I will breeze Her
Me Pacific 'n Breezing

Maybe I'll go
And maybe I will stay
Oh if your looking for me
Look out there
in LA.

-R.

(79)
-LA
©1980
olympia May 2014
i sit there with
the cool wind
breezing against my face
while the summer sizzles
on my shoulders

your golden thigh
sticks to my skin
as we drive to the game
every ******* week

the boys
they sit in the back
and pack their lips
and talk **** about
the girls

the girls
who don't realize
that they're their easy targets
who skip around
in their short, tight
dresses

they talk about their waists
and the way they like to moan
every little imperfection
all avail have they shown

they think that it makes them buff
they think that it makes them cool
and i let them light their egos
and sometimes i chirp on too

but yet i sit and listen
and sometimes i think
they don't realize that i'm a girl
too

i don't know how i feel about that
Wai Phyo Win Dec 2018
Which one you choose; whatever?
Jimbaran, Kota or Nosadua
happiness inside leaves us forever

Took pictures with terrace rice fields background
thinking of hanging on the wall around
dancing decor all surrounds; echoing sounds

Looking for the bedcover pink and blue
Cotton floral design so beautiful true
when we can use it without a clue

Having a candle lit dinner on Uluwatu cliff
beside a table without a script, a band of music
breezing air across the ocean; not restrict

Tasting Luwak coffee on way to Mount Butar
the buffet was not super but we felt like Michelin cook rooster
Thinking of happy ever after

We went for banana boating
I was afraid of chocking though it was floating
while you're holding me tight but soaking

Now you are there without me
I'm sure your eyes will be full of tears
of the memories
can we call it tragedy?
A Story
The power of the mind
I have heard those words
Thought them to be nothing more
Than just a play on words
But not today, oh, not today
It was the yellow sweater I saw first
I know right!! YELLOW sweater
Let's just let that go
Then the face, your face
The one I have been trying so hard not to forget
Those eyes I could not stare into for more than a few seconds
For they always seem  to be staring back at my soul
Saying I know what you are thinking, I can see your heart beating
I could not contain myself, like an open book I let out a smile,
My ***-IT-IS-REALLY-YOU! smile
Hidden behind the HAPPY-NEW-YEAR, LONG-TIME-NO-SEE greetings
Oh I believe!!!! I am a believer!!! i believe in its power
The power of the mind, My mind,
The one you have been breezing in and out
Of like a ghost, the friendly one though
Whispering your name in calligraphic puffs of air
Once or twice for the past couple of weeks
Now you are here, standing in front of me
The 3rd time today, asking if you had changed in anyway
And I saying just saying "No"
When all I was screaming inside to say was
Yes!!!!
Your fine self is finer than the last time I laid eyes on you.

©Belema .S. Ekine
©belemascribbles
There is this guy I have a crush on
Nicole Nov 2012
A moment. That's all it took.
We started with nothing, but created what turned out to be the best time of my life.
We took a walk, no destination in mind.
Ended up in the woods. Walking, talking, laughing. Just loving the lives we were living.

An unknown path, led us to where we are today .
A quiet hill, calmly overlooking the lake.
Waves crashing on the shore.
Wind breezing through the trees.
A moment we sat.

We talked about the summer, for it was the first day.
Ideas turned to plans, plans turned to set dates.
A moment we planned.

We planned what turned out to be the most amazing memories we've made.
Maybe the best we'll ever come to make.
A moment we were alive.

Now we sit, remembering those days.
Enduring the pain of the new Now.
Wishing we were there once more, away from the hell we've come to know as today.
A moment we reminisce.

I hope to never forget those days.
Without you I wouldn't be who I am today.
Without me you claim the same.
A moment we changed.
*But forever we will love.
This is for my best friend. I love him and if it wasn't for him I don't know where I'd be right now.
Bambi Aug 2023
I love everything about you. I love your smell, from the way your cologne and deodorant sticks to your freshly washed skin to the way your natural musk smells when you sweat through a hot summer night stuck to me. I love how your skin is always soft, it brushes up against my thighs and cheeks like a blanket of the highest quality. Your voice is deep, but comforting and I adore all the sounds your body makes, especially the little grunts and sighs. When you speak soft words in my ear, I just melt into soft butter and I even love the way your silly words tease me, even when I get upset. Your bone structure is manly, but in a way that your body wraps around mine ideally when we hug. The way your eyes sparkle in the sunshine is like fairy dust and I could get lost in your gaze forever.
Your hand fits into mine perfectly and your tongue twists perfectly with mine when our lips collide. The movement of your hips with mine is like a metronome to my heart. All you could do is sleep and eat and I would never get tired of watching you. If you were a colour, you would be your favourite, purple, because it represents devotion, pride, mystery, magic and nobility. If you were a smell, it would be freshly cut grass on an early summer morning. Most people would say love feels like a sunny summer day, but ours is like one of those spring days where the temperature is fit for flowy dresses, but the sky is filled with some dark clouds that pass in the evening and there is a slight warm wind breezing through everyone's hair. Every single evening when you tell me you love me over the phone my stomach flutters with butterflies. As an item, you would be my favourite comfy old sweater. I love every single imperfection on your skin and in your soul. If I were to describe hanging out and having fun with you, the closest thing I could compare it to is the first bite of a freshly baked warm cinnamon pastry. I used to hate the idea of life, but if we were to create a family I would actually want to grow old with you. If there exists a heaven, it would be us sharing a fresh lemonade and chuckling next to a lake where tiny birds chirp and eat the crumbs of the bread we baked together. If you were a drink, you would be high quality whiskey and lastly, if you were a person, you would be mine.
Madisen Kuhn May 2013
you
it's a beautiful day today

my favorite weather
is when the sun
tenderly kisses my cheeks
and freckled shoulders

i see kids carelessly riding their bikes
and wind breezing
through the branches of tall trees
and i think of you

i think of how it would be
to lay in the middle of a soft green field
with our arms touching
and your hand holding mine

i wonder what animal you'd say
the clouds look like
and if you'd pick a flower
to place behind my ear
and look into my eyes
to tell me i'm more breathtaking
than any daisy
that has ever been quenched by summer rain

i think about you a lot,
and i know today
would be even more beautiful
with you by my side
jerely Jul 2013
I was lost on the pavement
Along the corridors
Who left me unspoke through the scattered bloods
That left me hang on a cliff


My eyes was beneath the aftershock
But all I could do is to stare at the ceiling
No words to be found nor sounds could form
Only the laugh,scream and yells of the crowd


The thunderstorm,chill of the breezing air
Wants me to follow the serene.
My catatonic blueprinted smile was fainted
Schizophrenia that I could last at the moment


And yet an honorific began to squeeze me
There were thousands of people
But I could feel like im on the spotted arena
If I could shout out loud and escape from the reality then I'd go save by the bell.
OTL idk if this teaser thingg suited for the gangsta poet hahahah But my soon gangsta poet will not the "Lost" title anymore lol and since i wanted to post something new! :) XD
Sparrow's twitter
From the dawn of
Hearing the hassle of Myna
This morning
Or the Singing Cuckoo
Of yesterday afternoon

Read the language of their time
When they say it certainly
As the Morning
Evenings
Or mid of the Summer noon

Read their body language
When they are sounding
Beside window
Or playing
In the lake water

Draw my attention
But I don't understand
Completely
Assume
It is a pester
Argue with friends
Or by calling the dear
At this time,
We say that the Spring
Or Say any unspoken Dream
Seeking through the Bridge
That breezing over Heart
And The Soul

You invite
The spring comes
But I do not understand
So what are the
Give your tunes
I sorted the words

Whatever may be the tune
Guess again,
Or partial
But they say
We see
Hear
Their songs
Their mother tongue

They pointed out that
Indicates
Each other
To visit the open sky
Afield
Dance with the wind
It also has to
Entertained
Any pain that may be broken
Their heart
Playing a melancholy tune

Which refers to the words
Of their mother
The words
Of the Nature
Realizes that we
But  never try to feel with the heart
/
The Language of Birds
That we have never tried to feel with the heart
/
Guntang Jun 2020
breezing past
along
alone
butterflies jest
in florescent court
weathered oaks
chiefly gaze
the leafy shadows
remember crowds
Perry Feb 2020
I've drank the finest of wine
Down to the bottom of the bottle
Only to witness an ocean alone
Barely surviving my own hands

A fire burned through my viens
That was blew out by the wind
Breezing through the leaves
A calmness that sits with me
Before calmness dismisses me

I walked across the tallest blue sky
Where wide winged birds soar high
Til promises of white clouds turn grey
And so there I fell with the rain
Dripping through the lowest gutter

Many times I was buried, lying in dirt
Like a grave, needing no help
Finding the dark inside of myself
But I always rise with the blades
Of the greenest fresh spring grass

No matter what feeling I catch
None of them seem to everlast
nivek Aug 2017
the winds voice sings her songs
lullaby breezing
and after awhile

if she is ignored for too long
she begins to blow real mad.
Max Neumann Nov 2019
take me away from this journey
i am trapped in the land of placelessness

blind / hypnotized
route 36 / bolivia
deaf / treated with ultrasound
simultaneously

scarcely knowing
what all that means

i am feeling the rising of blood
a wave of heat like sandstorms

inevitability: willful / knowing / aware

i am putting myself at risk of dying
long ago i read about the risks and consequences
of my ******* abuse
pervaded them intellectually while

my heart remains deafly because
of *******
bitter
sear
aflutter and in panic

there is just:

one life
one heart
one body one man

man what are you doing?!?!
i am hollering into my inner
embracing the envelope
obsessed over bitterness
numb love
in the dungeon of plotted heavens
lofty as never before
is where i am running away from:
every day

in the 1920s there was a man
who they called "koks-emil"
he sold ******* in the nightstreets of berlin

the national archive has been keeping
a picture of him doing business with
two girls out of gangland we
can't see the face of the one standing left only  
her back

however her companion typifies precisely
what the drug creates in our souls:
a form that can not be imitated
like the effect of the drug

a form of longing and greed in the
girl's face

longing and greed
balancing each other
not one of
these states predominates

while beholding the girl i am becoming
horridly conscious
about myself
horridly about

my relationship with *******
my affair with *******
my love to ******* this
sounds sick?
indeed it is

we call it
suffering from an addiction

we call it
suffering from a dependency

become clean.
i wish you willpower
wish you strong luck
wish you peace at last

the rate of relapsing
******* users is vast
during the night

when the wind is
breezing mildly

when the stones of the cities
are breathing out the heat of the day

while you are
sneaking over the streets

while every street corner resembles
the very one where
koks-emil used to sell his product

while you are sensing the smell
of bitterness

while you are being preoccupied with
her face: her longing her greed

while you are experiencing
yourself:

more deeply
more soberly
and more knowingly
as before

while you
are reaching out your hands searching
with kidfingers for koks-emil

the guy with the warped corner of the mouth
the reliable / greedy one

the one who is always ready

a salesman has to be available for
every second of your longing
every second of your greed

koks-emil: your world is made of black and white
your hat is grey its bonnet is vanishing as your
shivering hands

hands that spread capsules
hands that grap at bills
hands that you use to brush away your sweat

**** between the lipps
shabby coat

koks-emil your spirit
blows through inner cities like gas fumes
a grin on your face coming from
lurid lights

you became immortal
you underwent rapid decades
you were an addict
you created addicts
you served addicts

the ****** expression of the girl
your child-like customer
remains for

all for everybody with a
*******-addiction

for all and for everybody
who depends on *******

for all and everybody
who is clean from *******

for all and everybody:
longing and greed

rest in peace girl
Based on true events.

Today is a good day.
I don't make a impact
I simply breeze around others lives
Forever just to be a girl they once knew
I'm nothing in this world filled with
Hate and love
Just a kid with unheard opinions
And broken screams
abby Nov 2014
do not call me a liar
when you're sailing your boat
into vinegar seas
because my knobby knees
crushed you with ease
and you cried "don't hurt me,
please, please, please."

i wanted you dead
for all the wrong reasons
i killed you with time
through the four seasons
there isn't anything more pleasing
than your cotton mouth teasing
my long hair breezing
and you were sick with the flu,
always sneezing, sneezing, sneezing.

*(a.m.c.)
DIANA Oct 2014
O, beautiful songs,
please come to my mind,
through my body,through every vein  of  my part,

O, breezing with superior white flower scents,
breeze, breeze,breeze ,
whirling, buzzing at a slow speed through the  desert,

Lets help blooming the rising buds,

O, beautiful songs.....
Diverseman2020 Jun 2010
Most of the southern portion
Of Argentina
I stand alone
Waiting
In Buenos Aires
For the elevation of my love
Entirely free of her stones
A statue shapely face
With granite and crystalline rock
Windy plateaus
Breezing along the Rio Colorado
Memories remain deep
While my heart ponders
I've so much blood in war
To a woman
Lady Eva
Is her name
Rings out in whispers
In my ear so ghostly
Our youth was so boldly
But beautiful
Her departure
Deposit streams of  tears
That aches many nights
I screamed out in agony
And found myself in shame
Now, I'm left alone and lost
To a time
Of past history
How can an unsuccessful love
Prison a desire
That is worsen
Than a sharpen sword
A buried faith
I cannot bring back
nivek Sep 2016
Give me the breezing through trees any day
grant me the gift of silent Sunlight to be captivated
and all the company of solitude;
over the clamour of the masses, any day.
Amy Perry Feb 2016
Breezing past the seasons,
Ocean breeze releases.
Pedaling with our knees, us,
And our music blaring, see us,
See our smiles, you can read us.
The air is there to feed us.
He pedals on like she does,
Finding happiness is there to greet us.
Travis Green Aug 2018
I sit on the rooftop of my home
above the city traffic breezing through
the stark streets, their shadowed tires
playing various musical notes upon the
glorious surface, swirling smoke from engines
twisting and twirling in the rising air, the deep
shifting sun wearing it’s majestic crown, gazing
at the beautiful scenery glittering in its eyesight,
my bright brown eyes staring at a mountain
of lyrical content, a stunning sheet filled with
blazing melodies, a magnificent instrument strumming
its skills upon a drumming landscape, an amazing vocal
pattern hip-hopping into a dominion of amplifying layers,
each time changing into a collection of crystal clears,
resurrecting a roaring sea of swagging infinities flying
into future constellations, while suntanned trees swing
a swift beat, rocking in outer worlds far from earth,
marching leaves sinking in magical passion and dancing
dreams, breathing in the eternal existence of tranquility,
letting it seep inside their frames and intensify their minds,
letting its philosophy of uncharted depths exhale a wave
of genius creations, a glowing gem existing beyond Venus and Mars, further distant than any galaxies known to mankind.  As I sit on this creative platform of timeless brilliance, I can feel the echoing breeze whispering in my ears, its smooth monotone sounds stinging my soul,every essence of my being, igniting a fire spinning kingdom of raw and gritty poetry inside my heart.
Monday
and I climbed out of a deep sleep
too,

aw well
I'd better rise and put a primer on
and look my best
this day is always long,

maybe it's a punishment
sent to me by some
disgruntled deity
but
probably not.
Hanna Jordan Jul 2016
The mesmerizing sounds of nature
echoed through my ears
It was a blissful morning
we both agreed,
With his cup of coffee in one hand
and cigarette in the other
we talked for over an hour
on that beautiful porch,
breezing through every little topic
These mornings are what I live for
good conversation, coffee, and a pack of cigarettes.
bobbing up and down in the azure blue sky
brightly colored air filled spheres
big or small their sizes maybe
bringing much enjoyment to the viewer's eye
baskets attached have people standing in them
breezing above tranquil lakes and verdant glens
brothers Joseph and Jacques Montgolfier invented them
MeanAileen Mar 2017
Whispering winds...
beyond breezing-
snow falls down...
blowing, freezing.

Loneliness aids...
tedious crying-
living, hating...
loving, dying.

Pale skies...
winter showing-
devours sunlight...
shadows growing.

Fate it lurks...
quietly calling-
screaming, running...
whispering, falling.

Leaves chasing...
nature stealing-
bitter flurry....
whipping, reeling.

Rain dropping...
falling, streaming-
whims, wishes...
foolishly dreaming.

Nights so cold...
never warming-
nightmares, you...
ever swarming.

Dwindling light...
dying within-
darkness falls...
on a heart of sin.
Just some dark words from my weird brain....
It's also the yang to the yin of another one of my poems called 'Dandelions & Dreams'
Abdullah Ayyash Oct 2014
A fine line, in between
The life I have and my dream
My sheets are freezing
My passion is breezing
My lonely bed is cold
I may not be the one
Who wipes your tears
I may not be the soul
You lit, to warm yours
I’m just one more fading soul,
Has more tears to tear
And more fears to fear
Just one more broken heart
Needs to find its destined island,
In your stormy ocean
Needs to survive its destined life,
When sipping your potion
Look at me with your hazy eyes
Hold me close with your love
And let your lips, be my salvation
© Copyrighted
Abdullah Ayyash
October 24rd, 2014
Sia Jane Dec 2013
Through a vision in my dream, I see her there standing
a smile, unpainted, authentic and real, hopeful
opening the door, I feel a smile emerge, and the butterflies
oh they kick within me, like a life is growing there
a baby in sight, with no bump or pulse, just a gathering
of fluttering wings, that should I rip my chest open
out they would fly, a mélange of colours and shapes
purple swallowtails, adonis blues, lacewings, painted ladies
and finally, my favourite, the Menelaus Blue Morpho
escorted by the Duke of Burgundy, my springtime hero
each flutter, each movement, a collection from the continents
my self, my soul, my body has travelled, wanderlust
keepsakes of beauty and bliss, bordering on extinction safe within me
in a heartbeat they cover my whole self, they move around my body
my legs tremble, barely able to hold, this grown woman upright
a gulp, a gasp, a stare in wonder,
speechless, tongue tied, dazed, dumb, silent
my head empties, no thought passes, the parietal lobe vanishes
adrenaline is racing through my body faster than the light hitting my eyes
moments later I find vocal sound waves breezing past my ears
they are in slow motion, her voice mumbled, incoherent
she touches me and I jump in fright,
my eyes adjust, my heartbeat slows down, my legs steady
"Rachel!"
"Rachel!"

I wake up alone.

© Sia Jane

---

"In through the window a moonbeam comes,—
Little gold moonbeam with misty wings;
All silently creeping, it asks,
"Is he sleeping— Sleeping and dreaming while mother sings?"


Eugene Field
WARNER BAXTER Mar 2014
.
*the honeysuckle nectar is gathered with a buzz
cactus flowers perform their sweet encore, just because

sandals tip toe in short skirts, so busy are the eyes
spilling ink are poets, minding minds of the wise

love is in the air breezing through limbs and leaves
newlyweds sniffing with mouths under dancing trees

spring has sprung and love is singing everywhere
while country clocks crawl and standing still is Time Square
Joe Stabile Jun 2012
Your words spit and dribble down your chin,
forcing my hands to reach and catch them
with my fingertips. Silence finds a sultry
kiss within the static we fulfill in.

I hear the grasps in your breath, wrapping
around my neck until we’re both wheezing
for another chance to live. I knew you wanted
me to exhale a puddle of sighs at your front
door before I left without a word.

There’s red ash staining my palms — digging
it’s crimson dust into my lungs ‘til I see
fire in your eyes.
                              I burn for you.

I feel a chill into my brain, breezing through
the memories I’ve sustained. And the nostalgia
is darker than everything I’ve blown into
your veins, but it still tastes like regret.

Hold my neck the first time we licked
each other’s wounds, and tomorrow I’ll salt
them ‘til they are stone. And in a week I’ll
pick the scab and remember you as a scar.
Ana Kruscic Oct 2012
It's been a lonely morning, but perhaps, I was in need of one.
After staring at shaded yellow walls, at every hour of the night,
and feeling anger sharpen to some light,
At 7 a.m, I finally fell fast asleep,
my walls were slowly becoming bright.

I woke up 4 hours later to the opening of a door, one that was expected for long ago.
The sides of my head were biting my brain, and my teeth on lip bites gave way for pain,
I got up and got dressed, no coffee, no rest, I went for a walk, in need of a talk,
but sat in a park sipping black alone, and watched the white on which sun softly shone,
and the air slightly breezing, this bone of mine freezing,
a dog interrupting, I headed down the lonely street,
staring at my lonely slow feet,
counting my numerous steps,
and seeing a nest?

I saw a beautiful bird in a tree, and it's true a lot of memories came back to me.
It hoarsely cawed and gave me attention, another passer-by, just one of the Menschen.
I stood and watched its desired Display, He stood on a roof and gave flight a nay.

Tucked its wings in for the very last second, he dropped beak-first
and I have to admit, I was a little afraid.
When cement was an inch away, his black wings rose, and extended from his small body
the wind pulled him back, his head prostrated backwards, his eyes met my own
and he cawed.

The three of us we belonged to each other, with wordless agreement that said She, the Mother.
"Have trust in me, you will fly and and you will fall, this time is not yours,
However, this here, this is your call. I know it moves slow, and it gives you a shudder, but have trust in me, I am your Mother."

I ignored Her words, and descended the road,
felt the earth flicker, a disrupted candle-
The wind, was to blame for its cruel games.
A door opened after many steps,
the flights were long, and the wind did not help.
I opened my window, gave breath to the tree,
and She crept in,
She humored me,
"One day your shivering bones, will be under those stones, and that bowl will be full with your fleshy Müll.
You'll feel the stillness, see the Flicker for you, this cement all ready and new, awaiting your beak, hopes for your red leak."
"It'll be me with your breath, and your longing thirst, but first,"
She gave me her hand, and I saw wrinkles of ages,
and so that I might repay, or perhaps even Replay
I gave her my hand and said,
"Lead the way."
Naomi Sa'Rai Feb 2012
Finally
Award moments passed
Bound in the future
Free of the past
Illiterate
Unable to read minds
Tell what your thinking
Crossed lines
Thin
Translucent
Visions crystal clear
Clawing out
Drawing near
Closets open
Step through
Experience
Passion
Pleasure
Emotions of your soul
I wont tell
No one knows
Friendly flirtation
Sticky situations
Tip of your tongue
Searching for explanations
Just having fun
Put in a box
Categories aren't me
Touch my heart
Little black sheep
Big lion roar
Spread your wings
Soar
Air breezing round
Sulking cross town
Tell that you feel
Kiss sof
Unreal
Dreaming up a lifetime
Seems laying here
Smell of ammonia
White everywhere
Your my lifeline
Broken pieces beating as one
They wont accept our love


Murray
Rangzeb Hussain Jun 2010
Know the dominion of the beasts,
For therein dwells the lurking hellspawn,
Let ravens pluck out mine eyes
As to the gallows tree I go,
Hang my dreaming head in disgrace,
Encase me in a jaded iron gibbet,
Forever let the creaking flutter through the bars of desolation,
Rip out this raging heart so false,
Shatter with heavy pincers my teeth of pure rot,
Be not so kind to this tongue which rasps a trail of saliva lies,
Nails long and hard strike like hammers sharp
Into me they please pin,
Pain, sweet burning pain,
True, the only truth, is pain of love,
Spikes clatter into me,
Come, all you there, slash my autumnal flesh,
Under skies of oblivion suicide leave me evermore,
Barking branches scaly with age, wrinkled hate,
To me they scratch and tear, waltz to this tune,
Oh, face old of mine, dance you now,
Noose knotted with stringy sweat wrapped with cold rope,
Sink this does into my wrists and neck of mossy meat,
The rope cuddles into my skin and settles down to rest,
Let my red rain splash out in rivulets,
Bones crippled beyond torture,
My tattered arms swing a limp jig with the fair wind,
Hairy evening shadows snarl towards me,
Eyes of this night search for eternal light,
Immortality lies in the trap of rats that by us sleep
Day to day, from mourn to grave and so to everlasting grief,
History is twisted by the fist of the stained victor,
Rose thorns round about me twine like barbed veins,
Pulses throb through my corrupted blood,
Dead is innocence, all defiled and exposed she lies,
Wasps of poison bury themselves into me,
I feel the gnawing of flies as they burrow through the tunnels of my lungs,
How truly sublime, I stretch here expiring
Whilst all over me life is transpiring in a cycle of vibrancy,
Here I am then, a human compost heap,
Care not I for honey rose vipers that spiral between my toes,
Larvae, slugs and speckled eggs are laid in my torn nose,
Wonder of hatching birth so soon by the harsh light
Of a baleful moon that keeps mute vigil as my soul is devoured,
Witness now how my spineless heap shall become fertile,
More use will I be as muddy earth than false flesh and ****** broth,
Never again shall I creep whilst the gentle grass whistles past,
Blind to this glory road of reborn voices was I once,
A natural symphony breezing colours never before beheld,
My ears only heard the cacophony of polluted *******,
Dead to courage was I, witless beyond scales of measure,
Fear eats the soul, gorges on it, wet lips digesting raw courage,
Not anymore for me this hateful way of retreat,
Hang my songs I say and be done with it, freedom wings await,
Make no more warm my corpse, let the blood chill to a standstill,
Darkness lights my ragged way, homeward bound nevermore,
Clenched concrete knuckles scrape my eyelids,
Still I bear witness to a sight fearful, wide open and blind,
Unfaithful heart once so wild and carefree, now trapped in my dead ribcage,
Release steps my way, but for you heart no escape,
Simple foolish beating muscle of mine once so proud now so helpless,
Rage against thy prison walls of meaty flesh,  
Thrash and pulse, throb your drumming tune no more,
Be at ease you tireless ***** player, music within me dies,
I shudder spasms of painful pangs, fluttering with the briny sea breeze,
Gulps of molten rust braze through my open windpipe,
Such tender tragedies do I endure,
Steep spires from dales near pierce my stricken ears,
Frozen worms of yesterday snuggle under decaying fingernails,
Fog whispers on the mournful barrows,
Nothing stirs near my dread place of execution,
Wrapped in autumn leaves I lie strung and swaying,
Indeed, it is me who is now part of the bark and weeds,
Plague snakes furrow into my hollow stomach, marching inwards,
Apples of late summer decompose against my winter body,
Sweetness denied to me, soul eater hungry with empty holes,
Blossom so pink and fragrant wafts through the gloom,
Seasons have become drunken and confused,
What once was Winter twists into Summer, Spring coils into Autumn,
Must come a time for a suicide of reckoning,
Life blood boils on the canvas,
Colours of the soul shrouded shades, chasms so far apart,
So short, so brief was my dream of idle days long gambled,
Dim distant that road now seems, behind over my crippled shoulders,
Stars burning with my final plight,
Fame never was my aim, cruel fate ensnared me in a vital grip,
All barren is the world of human rule, nothing but folly,
Let me curl in your boughs that by me lie, sleep eternal,
In these branches that now cradle me, gently rock my weary limbs,
Night winds brush my hair, worldly cares drip off me,
At this late hour, as I no more drift, away to forgetfulness I glide,
Bliss so smooth by me stands,
Stars so high are extinguished one by one, winking as they expire,
I will travel with them methinks,
To places unknown I shall go,
No fear accompanies me, I journey alone with millions alongside me,
The time of glow worms slides over my exhausted corpse,
Cosmic galaxies swiftly cloudy and milky,
Pastures filled with random harvests, biology and chemistry blend with whirling pace,
Be at ease now, I hover over solemn lands,
My sightless soul wings into the mouth of a mighty cave,
There she waits, a lady complete of cold,
This frost daughter welcomes me with fiery fingers,
Price of skin I pay, there the bargain is stroked in ink dipped from my iced veins,
I am reborn, and I see myself through my child’s eye,
I have no mouth yet I itch to scream,
Become have I now nothing more than a voiceless ice worm,
Remember me for one who never forgot,
Dreamy night with talons, ******* rusty blood,
Creaking skeleton mine, dust of ages now,
Islands in search of continents, drowned oceans sailing for thirst,
One speck of truth contains more fear than mighty deserts of water,
No sense in this, unreal rose, falsely it speaks of truth,
I waited by the portal of time, grew grey with age,
Yet still no sign of you at the gates,
Thou hast been sidetracked by the green-eyed serpent that yonder by you lies,
In the deep ravine valley of wailing desolation,
Mayhap we may truly exchange words, but it does not seem soon,
Still, here I scratch my wrinkled skin and grow old like a child,
Bury me in the graveyard of truth where eagles gorge on souls,
The ghost road will go ever on
And I will limp behind,
In front of me a long line of suicidal grief relief,
Behind me I see nothing but me,
Even my shadow has deserted and left for places less forlorn,
The moment has arrived for me to knock on coffin doors
And hear the songs of truth,
Come, join me, gather together,
Let us sleep eternal,
Death comes.



©Rangzeb Hussain
JM McCann Mar 2015
I first would like to apologize for getting rather mad,
calling you a stupid *****
and saying it was a “hit and run” to the police,
also in hindsight spitting at you was not cool.
I feel bad about it now,
and it will haunt me for a while,
or at least until something else comes up.


You shattered my wings,
granted they were glass wings and
when you’re throwing yourself through the narrowest possible canyons
getting hit is almost certain still, it *****
the wind out of you, even if just for a second.


I love jumping through
canyons daring gravity to do its worst, but I was playing by the rules,
respecting nature
or at least I planned on not breezing by the sides as much.
I guess its habit now, to risk getting shattered for
the freedom of movement in a restricted space.

I swear when I hit the ground I was ready to walk away
I was intact.
Ready
to continue on my way and saying “yeah I’m fine”,
learn nothing and find smaller canyons.
but when I saw the bird you hit, my brain
sprinted for the worst.
That knocked the wind out of me.
Instantly I thought it was completely ******,
and while I still do have my wings,
you shattered part of my glass illusion.
Thank god for repair shops.

You see you own the skies your kind controls
the canyons walls, make them zig then zag that way.
Sure their are bigger gods,
but they only show up from time to time. I’m part of the skies
but my only possible responsibility is to not
hit the birds.
The rules say I need to act like you,
but the rulers let us fly our own ways.
The bigger gods understand or just don’t care.

So next time just know that the rules
are not the ones in physics textbooks, those are
often confusing and require years worth of reading,
of understanding billions of acceptions of knowing what
the hell centripetal force is, and being able to solve painful
multi variable calculus problems
the way physics actually works is what happens when
the winds take glass
and you, being a god got careless and broke the laws of physics.
So I'm a very passionate cyclist and this was my first crash of any note whatsoever with a car, any feedback is more than welcome
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
i really don't know how this is a connected,
but somehow it is,
you drink a few ms. ambers and
your mind just turns into an armchair,
you can unwind,
send the serpent of a tongue
into the garden and watch the show...

the original thought begins with an old
pet peeve...
   the argument...
   what was it?
  ah!
          why so much evil in the world,
and so little if any divine intervention...
can you imagine the sort of
hellish world that would be,
this, zoo?
                     why i believe in free will?
well... i don't believe in
divine intervention...
   however horrid, divine intervention
is "missing", i guess,
simply because we're supposed to
live out all our potential...
however that might be...
             the heavenly has to dance
with the macabre,
   the man with the woman,
      
an atypical argument by the sophists...
why doesn't god intervene
when bad things happen to good people?
do you want to look at
the zenith of being given freedom
to do either evil, or good...
and not be judged in the act of doing
so? you don't want this freedom,
because some magical entity doesn't
intervene?
   then you'd have a case for the non-existence
of free will...

****... did i really elevate myself
to such theological claims? guess so...
catholic education,
   i wasn't going to completely free from
the religious debate...
but that's beside the point...

the first Bukowski book i read,
i bought in Glasgow on one my psychotic
outings...
what matters most is how well
you walk through the fire
...
i bought it because of but one poem...
it begins
   sometimes there's a crazy one in the street.
he lifts his feet carefully as he walks.
he ponder the mystery
of his own ****.

- and ends with
when you see a crazy one walking
in the street
honor him but
leave him alone.
    there's no luck like that luck
nothing so perfect in the world
let him walk untouched
remember that Christ was also insane
..
while in between?
the line...
  the sane are too numerous...

but this ties in to another poem
(that one was called insanity)...
i sometimes think:
and my, my my,
what a fine way to exfoliate
the emphasis of punctuation,
but breaking lines so much...
point being, there's an upper tier
of punctuation,
primarily associated with the philosophy
genre...
and no... don't even try to read
philosophy book like you might
read a piece of journalism
from a newspaper...
  3 years to complete Kant's
critique of pure reason...
believe me, you can have your fictive
novel breezing through moment
when Kant writes out
  a schematic for transcendental
methodology
... that bit is easy...
but you can't exactly read Kant
in 3 weeks, and subsequently spew
the content, or rather, plagiarize
it, hiding behind schematics,
and the obvious a priori / a posteriori
categorizations...
well... unless you're a college
philosophy professor,
and much akin to a news anchor ditto-head...
then yeah... plagiarism is the way
to go...

you know what elevated punctuation
looks like?
   you read a snippet of a philosophy
book, you'd be lucky to read a chapter
in a day...
   thinking... thinking is the over-arching
punctuation from your casual punctuation
already imbedded in the script...
thinking does the punctuation
when reading this genre of books...

but it dawned on me...
aphorism XXXII, pondering(s) VIII...
just one sentence...
  (i favor Heidegger?
because he favored poets)...
             poetißing and thinking enter
into an essentially transformed,
incalculable relation.
     when & how both become manifest
as da-sein with self-altering beings,
without publicly existing and "operating"
.

this immediately brought be back
to a Bukowski poem,
    the last poetry reading...
****... that's not it...
it's not even captain goodwine...
whatever the poem is...
it reads something akin to:

   you're an entertainer now...

that's what i steer away from,
  indicating that these words require
a stage presence,
an oratory valor...
   a performance,
     no public performance,
no freedom of speech *******...
    no speaker's corner manifesto...

            i already signed up to the ontological
motto of...
   cogitans qua esse per se...
thinking as being, being in itself...
the fact that i might leave my mind
and instead morph it into a waggling
tongue on a stage...
the fact that these words could
make public office,
and even be deemed as, "operational"...
not so much petrifies me...
but...
               disgruntles me...
   disincentivizes me...

  after all... i've noticed this...
once you start performing?
your repertoire suffers...
                   like all artists...
the moment you become confident with
your poetry via its public
reception,
   your creativity, your virility,
your fertility succumbing to new ideas,
drastically diminishes,
i've watch countless poetry
performers...
"poets"...
     with a repertoire of... 10 poems?
maybe even less...
   they start performing,
they stop exploring...
   when poetry is bound to the high
court of silence,
yet becomes visible phonetic encoding,
like... like I.T.,
signs, symbols emerge,
but there is no sound to be heard...
when no one is being entertained,
it expands...
        come to think of it...
Heidegger is quiet right...
     poetry has more to do with
philosophy than it has to do with
rhetoric, oration, sophistry,
   or Sophocles... to specify...
            poetry is about "speaking"
the truth...
   but who the hell, in public...
will speak themselves,
  speak the truth?
              let us leave that to the actors...
who... imagine themselves speaking
a truth, but certainly, not their truth,
the truth...

i want to be as close
to cogitans qua, esse as much as possible:
or rather...
cogitans qua loquitur,
   ergo loquitur qua cogitans,
qua, esse, qua est omni illud
;
   (thinking as being talking,
therefore talking as being thinking,
as being, being, as being all that is).

p.s. well, yeah,
poet-thinker or poet-entertainer...
i don't need a freedom
to speak, i need a free to think,
and when i equate
thinking as speaking,
but i write,
rather than speak...
      see the comments sections
for more details...
if you "think" that this is
"talking".
Naomi Sa'Rai Feb 2012
Finally
Award moments passed
Bound in the future
Free of the past
Illiterate
Unable to read minds
Tell what your thinking
Crossed lines
Thin
Translucent
Visions crystal clear
Clawing out
Drawing near
Closets open
Step through
Experience
Passion
Pleasure
Emotions of your soul
I wont tell
No one knows
Friendly flirtation
Sticky situations
Tip of your tongue
Searching for explanations
Just having fun
Put in a box
Categories aren't me
Touch my heart
Little black sheep
Big lion roar
Spread your wings
Soar
Air breezing round
Sulking cross town
Tell that you feel
Kiss sof
Unreal
Dreaming up a lifetime
Seems laying here
Smell of ammonia
White everywhere
Your my lifeline
Broken pieces beating as one
They wont accept our love


Murray
Vishal Pant Jul 2022
VOID
My blue bicycle breezing over the grass
silence surrounded, colors faded
I saw the void gaining mass
knees went weak, I pled
VOID
What lay beyond the darkness
of the mysterious black sphere
I didn't fathom what I saw, not even a guess
The green grass went sere
VOID
Should I surrender to the sans-khrôma
maybe it was free of war and worries
utopia itself opened to us
or was it an otherworldly bleakness
VOID
I took a step into the vacuity
There wasn't a deity
nor the promised eutopia
VOID
Tried a sci-fi inspired mystery poem.

— The End —