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"brilliancy" poems
Make me Silent, that I may eloquently converse with Thee. I wandered through forests of incessant searchings, and arrived at the mystery door of Thy presence. On the doors of silence I knocked loudly with my persistent blows of faith, and the doors of space opened. There, on the altar of glorious visions, I beheld Thee, resting. I stood, with restless eyes, waiting for Thee to speak. I heard not Thy creation-making voice. At last the spell of stillness stole upon me, and in whispers taught me the language of angels. With the lisping voice of new-born freedom, I tried to speak, and the lights of Thy temple assumed sudden brilliancy and wrote letters of light. In my little chamber of quietness, I am always resting: I never speak but with the voice of my silence. Through my silence, eloquently converse with me. From: Whispers from Eternity A Book of Answered Prayers 1949 Edition
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Make Me Silent
I love falling without expectations, seeing yes in the garden of your eyes. Being blinded as if the earth moved when we are sharing the same sweet skies. I love feeling as if I have been struck clear to my soul. When I run headlong into your arms and find the half of me that is, only with you, becomes whole. I love the moments when I can sit very still and get lost in the light of you. The brilliancy of your heart outshines any diamond in expressions of love’s hue. I love how you roll into the air as a whispered voice, from lips confessing love reigns inside your heart. The sound takes me places where my heart leaps to start. I love waiting to relive the treasure of velvet minutes I hold of you in my memory. They are the sweetest interruptions and I will embrace them forever, lovingly.
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Jan 30, 2012
Jan 30, 2012 at 10:57 AM UTC
I Love - Falling Without Expectations
Legends be told, and written in tomes of a creature which roams the residence of the family: Lee- Through shrubs and trees, though silent and unseen, it seeks seeds- Ones of fire. Ones of sweet. The creature seen only when: upon them, it feeds, simultaneously. Its form of a boar with a tongue of alchemy, ignites in a spectrum of brilliancy. Hovering eyes remain but for a moment and weep vehement tears; crystallizing with the essence of harvest.
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May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 11:07 PM UTC
Ode to Tear Drops
A vast trench happens to my right, A grey scale area that shadows by night, The source of its presence is not of its own, And would likely dissipate if 'twas left alone Outclassed by its brother that resides aloft, The border is clear but the resemblance is not, Every shade on the spectrum is there to behold, And all of the sweet tales you've ever been told Nightfall beckons crevices grow dark, As the shadows thicken left side plays part, Dancing with darkness only imagination would dare, Playing with fire Take reign of the flare Grey matter grey stone cold lifeless and smooth, Must continue to function Synapses through groove, Storing all logic threads memories with seams, Holds nothing original overthrown by dreams The side that never sleeps illumination glimmers with brilliancy, Creativity runs rampant developed no further than infancy, Discouraged by elders suppressed by the sage, Who thinks it sensible to keep this treasure encaged Who’s wisdom we question to feed right side with answers, The unknowns parallel prefer singers and dancers, Who chant the melody we'd rather discern, Listen to your left brain and see what you learn
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Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
Cranium Canyon
I'm always the one that got away, Never the one that stayed My dad says I go through men like T shirts So I'm keeping this one on I'm going to tell it I love it and sing it a song I'm going to laugh at its jokes and wash it with care People will see us and say love is in the air My t shirt feels all my flaws with the softest touch My t shirt tells me I'm never too little, never too much I beam with brilliancy, I ooze admiration My aura is blaring red like a carnation I have so much to give it simply rips me to shreds But somehow I still find myself in other strange beds I want to scream and bite and kick I put the hopeless in hopeless romantic In a world of fast fashion, How am I to have a favorite T shirt? I live in a world of options and decisions feel too permanent If I still continue to love you, is it still considered abandonment?
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Mar 5, 2024
Mar 5, 2024 at 9:05 PM UTC
I don't have a favorite T shirt in a world of fast fashion
Words, imagery, poignancy, laconic brevity, extended profundity, rhetorical brilliancy, Poetry... bringer of insight, harbinger of wisdom, manifestation of wonder.
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Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 5:28 PM UTC
Poetry
"Before you, Bella, my life was like a moonless night. Very dark, but there were stars, points of light and reason....And then you shot across my sky like a meteor. Suddenly everything was on fire; there was brilliancy, there was beauty. When you were gone, when the meteor had fallen over the horizon, everything went black. Nothing had changed, but my eyes were blinded by the light. I couldn't see the stars anymore. And there was no more reason for anything." - Edward Cullen
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Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 10:46 AM UTC
Untitled
The ones you love the most... will hurt you the most... A stranger holds no power... to even make you rethink... But...now I am tired... tired of waiting...for this winter inside me to end... I don't want to get hurt anymore... I will make it till the end all alone... But...this pain...I want this to leave... Expectations hurt the most... And I know myself... A loser who daydreams... spending days writing useless poems... People like me...have no value in the real world... So...I live in a world of my own... I am tired of putting on playlists... of all those songs... to fill this vacuum... But...I can't understand if it's inside me or this place? Something...in my throat...chokes me I feel like puking...to get rid of it... A pain underneath my heart... A lot of my verses hold it's account... They ask me to write something new... But...this pain never ends... I ask them with tears in my eyes... "What should I do?" I have no answers...to any question... I am a useless being in this world of brilliancy Oh...I just realised... I am lonely again.
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Dec 13, 2021
Dec 13, 2021 at 10:52 AM UTC
Oh...I just realised
A miracle finds each morning Draped in skies of blue With pillows of downy clouds so light Which take the breath from you A sunrise of majestic splendor Bursts in brilliancy To warm the faces of the trees With leaves of deepest green Grasses fine with flowers fair Wild and blooming free Fill the air with fragrance rare As I breathe in ecstasy Such beauty found beyond compare God’s gift to you and me All left in trust to our loving care To rest in gentle peace
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May 10, 2010
May 10, 2010 at 9:07 AM UTC
In Our Care
………………………………..A transmission to my son: sometimes i can catch a glimpse of you through the slipstream our galaxies al- most align THEN we can both Hear and See and SPEAK! The super-nova brilliancy of it is… . . . everything. those moments so precious i i must i must (just breath, just breath) …please
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Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 9:29 PM UTC
Daaks
She slowly got up and hope that no one is awake to see her eyes bulging for help. She reached for her pen and that little vintage notebook that no one knows and started scribbling the words her soul screams for. She quietly sat at their balcony outside her room and let the moon illuminate her thoughts. She thinks this is the best way to get help without actually getting help from anyone. She slowly bring her hand to a move, a few strokes, a long hard press, a few soft ones, and a lot of semi-colon for her thoughts are an endless words to write. She looked up and count how many stars she can see and wonders if she can ever reach any of it. Dawn is her favorite part. More than she loved dusk. It is when there’s nothing else illuminating the sky other than the moon and the stars and a few shooting stars. Where a few people is awake, lonely and feeling the same way she does. Dawn is her best example of her woe. Getting that sorrowful feeling just by looking at the night sky. Knowing that her only companions are the heavenly bodies. She watches as her lean fingers trace the stars above her. Listening to her own distress; along with her soft breathing and dark, wild soul. Too preoccupied by its beauty. Mesmerized by the radiance of that brilliant, round heavenly body; giving her pain to it. Taking its brilliancy and leaving it dark and gloomy just like her soul. Chasing what’s left of her, she remembered that she was holding a pen, she grasped for it hard and slowly stand up and throw it above hoping it would touch the twinkling light beaming beneath her. Getting back to realization, she sat down and read what she has written and a tear fall down her pale cheeks, gazed at the moon and asking it to give her strength and take her pain away, but it didn’t repond. It just stared back, listening and letting her know that it understands her. She peered. Few salty tears fell, few strokes to her hair, wipe her tears away and gone back to bed. Because she knew for herself that she could never wipe her despair away.
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Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
She writes when she’s sad..
She slowly got up and hope that no one is awake to see her eyes bulging for help. She reached for her pen and that little vintage notebook that no one knows and started scribbling the words her soul screams for. She quietly sat at their balcony outside her room and let the moon illuminate her thoughts. She thinks this is the best way to get help without actually getting help from anyone. She slowly bring her hand to a move, a few strokes, a long hard press, a few soft ones, and a lot of semi-colon for her thoughts are an endless words to write. She looked up and count how many stars she can see and wonders if she can ever reach any of it. Dawn is her favorite part. More than she loved dusk. It is when there’s nothing else illuminating the sky other than the moon and the stars and a few shooting stars. Where a few people is awake, lonely and feeling the same way she does. Dawn is her best example of her woe. Getting that sorrowful feeling just by looking at the night sky. Knowing that her only companions are the heavenly bodies. She watches as her lean fingers trace the stars above her. Listening to her own distress; along with her soft breathing and dark, wild soul. Too preoccupied by its beauty. Mesmerized by the radiance of that brilliant, round heavenly body; giving her pain to it. Taking its brilliancy and leaving it dark and gloomy just like her soul. Chasing what’s left of her, she remembered that she was holding a pen, she grasped for it hard and slowly stand up and throw it above hoping it would touch the twinkling light beaming beneath her. Getting back to realization, she sat down and read what she has written and a tear fall down her pale cheeks, gazed at the moon and asking it to give her strength and take her pain away, but it didn’t repond. It just stared back, listening and letting her know that it understands her. She peered. Few salty tears fell, few strokes to her hair, wipe her tears away and gone back to bed. Because she knew for herself that she could never wipe her despair away.
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She saunters down the catwalk clad in a dress of the finest rose felt; in the throes of her sheer brilliancy, stages start to shimmer and the crowds begin to melt. A raw uncut diamond, glinting, stood out against a line of glamorised crows; through the transparency of make-up, her natural beauty still sparkles and shows. Yes she's stunning, that's how she caught my eye - but loving someone solely on looks is like playing Russian roulette with a broken lie, it was that little flutter in my chest that made her the girl I eventually chose - her beauty blooms from deep within, a purity of such embellished upon the petals of a Rose.
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Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 9:20 AM UTC
A Beauty Of Such
This is Malika: A queen, whose jingling beads charm kings to stoop, And beauty intoxicates men to stupor. That even men of muse ponder upon her mute And how her smile drives the clouds and her voice calms the winds. The star that does not leave my sky, even in the darkest of nights. With brilliancy like that of the rising sun; Whose ray of love has blurred my vision: All I see is beauty upon beauty and light upon light. The peacock of birds who walks in beauty and humility That no eyes can see, but mine. A cure for the soul that brings the heart to its senses. This is my Malika and I am her Malik. ©By Abdulmalik Jibril
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Jan 10, 2020
Jan 10, 2020 at 5:11 AM UTC
My Malika (My Queen)
my mind works in endless circles churning and crashing to find brilliancy in things to perhaps be a pioneer even at this time, invent or revamp, prove my soul worthy and wishing for fame but I lie in here feeling worthless, with nothing to my name.
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Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
I keep trying
Stagnancy Following hesitancy Which followed brilliancy Leaving me empty, see? The finality Of a propensity Toward brilliancy Is the inevitability Of an Empty Sea
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Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 3:24 AM UTC
The Empty Sea
The patterns of Glimmering light Refracted in the bubble Droplets dangling Off a glass pane, A rough skirmish Of splintering wood Stained by age and The sea Washing in still waves below, Neither of which reflect The brilliancy of White washed sheets Baked in a vanilla scent And a tidal quiver Of fingers shaking At the anticipation That they may Caress skin half silk With patches of sand, Warm in the sun That looms behind Gray fog over a pale Blue, seeping from The cracks that Scatter about a space So infinitely random, Lips bruised from A night needing no moon To shine away Dusk creeping up From pine-needled soil, Kissing with bare Chests and thinking With flickering eyes That so seemingly Match that of a candle's Shadowy counterpart In the enveloping Elegance of a deary Dance to the world Soaking wet, While darling, We lay amongst Boxes of sheets In our chests And days without So much as the rest Of the beating amp Inside our ribs, Shaking our hair Bedazzled with milky Morning twilight Dispersed through an Array of sleeping giants, Gently weeping away The toxicity of daily hustle, Cotton legs and Arms made of satin rope, Wearing the indifferences In the fibers of pasts Evaporated and sprouting next spring, Flower crowns and fireplaces, Murky waters and the shiver As you trace your fingernail Across the peak of my collarbone.
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Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 6:36 PM UTC
Old Love By The Salt Of The Sea
tell a story about your day, like a stream of light that had you swimming for your life, away from the dark cloud d e s c e n d i n g as it tried to hide the welts pending to blush with red, is that a self inflicted hue, or has some coward, done that to you, write your way out, type the keyboard hard, spell the word tunnel, and escape through the opening, hoping, that the change will stay and it won't close until you run head- __ on into the light, that is waiting at the end.............( ) some sound so sure sweet safe solid citizens, yet stay inspired, not in a rainbow and cotton candy dandy with streamers falling long and landing on your head as multicoloured hair, my stuff, yeah I have stuff, making sure to bring my self down, to a puddle where I might drown, if I stay down there long enough, I use words and their double meaning and edges, throw myself against the thorny hedges, self esteem has bruises deep, ....let me sleep from sunset to sunrise through the day, no compromise. I stay inspired, by all of you that place your vulnerability place your brilliancy place your life moments as an inspired observer, stay inspired, read (don't go anywhere without breathing out) because then your body will make you breath in what will you take to, how will you make it, who will shake, shake your world view, for your sake, letting you know we could not be here without you. Stay inspired, I am not the only that needs you.
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Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 1:20 AM UTC
Stay Inspired
The eternal source of brilliancy is provided the province of thought  as it cycles thru the organized conscience which you might ought come to know by it's role of a being that's being rolled into one, a sole entity with a constant vibrancy that Genius lent, wherefrom laborers working with hidden aims and methods can cause dissent amid the source if not well done: but the tribute paid by a splendid poem repays the loan without penalties, ( or punishment.)
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Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
Tribute
your dark eyes were a kaleidoscope of genuine cosmic brilliancy.
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May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 10:43 AM UTC
1:45 p.m.
His theory of forms proven, he offered to pay on Socrates' last day, circular in motion, as if in play his own theories of humanity he never wrote down never existed and never will exist in anything tangible but cognitive and eyesight, perception of man or determining the real perceptions of the round and round ashes to ashes permeate as dust mixing with glacial dirt and plant molds living mechanisms never meant to die, switching motives easy enough but die and feed the next as dirt feeds dialogues and mold feeds avarice. Once more and scores over ideas soar in man's stores and fields of vision, spinning notions ever greater larger scheming, circular in all the dreaming, envisioning a father-son relationship determining the son's outcome not that good character is a gift from the gods or noble in and of itself because the individual succeeds who circles back again to the waters of innocence and liberation in the purest sense of brilliancy and timing in chance, and if not meant, the stationary nature of forms truth eternal sends us from whence we came and the circle begins again ....
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Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC
Theory of Forms
The human heart has the loudest language imaginable It's entirely universal Yet also frighteningly individualistic There's nothing that sounds worse Than a heartbreak It's messy and silent With forced screams and (un)shed wails It sounds like a body hitting the ground After diving off the Empire State Building It feels like death And in some ways it is Heart aches remind us we're living With faint pangs of memories After the heart break It's the aftershock of a human made earthquake It rocks your world And brings tears to the eyes Sometimes it's worse than a heartbreak Because it's the resurfacing Redamaging Of those memories and that pain Heart yearns are so natural And caused by something Simple as a crush And complex as real as true Earnest and genuine love There's nothing more pure Than a heart yearn It's hope and light Dashed with brilliancy and fear Because there is nothing more exhilarating Than the unknown endeavors of a heart
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Aug 10, 2016
Aug 10, 2016 at 12:28 PM UTC
Heartbreaks, Heart Aches, and Heart Yearns
In any given universe or galaxy The ability to care about someone   Can transcend across time and space Next to you it felt as if   Time would begin to slow down Defying all laws of physics   Giving me an undeniable strength To overcome my deepest fears Of abandonment and desolation And hold you so close that When we touch it's like electricity A synapse of fire and brilliancy Running up and down our bodies Like a series of circuits With an unbelievable power to Make me feel like at the center Of your chest is a familiar place In which I can lay my head   Looking up at the stars knowing Wherever we may be in the world Our skies will look the same.
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Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 3:07 PM UTC
Galactic
They tell you to eat your wheaties and respect the kings and queens you only see on t.v. or in the bed with teenies. While these pigs devour our flesh their eating.  We starve and march to the drumbs their beating. We tried to find meaning through a church preaching freedoms. But While they built warships, we were chasing imaginary demons, out of lands to this day we still think were freeing. Instead of breaking bread to figure out the reasons. We build walls like the rest of the world aint humans.  Are we looking through the lens, because i cant seem to find any truemen.  This aint a movie, I know what moves me, and it will never be pre-tend. I care not what your creed defines, your needs are mine. And unlees we stand together we'll never be freemen. Believe me now, dont believe me when, theres nothing left to believe in man. The prison is your misery, unless your adolescents is at the hands of bill and hillary.  The only statute we have is a lady burning liberty. The corruptions is tyranny. So, when they try to analyze me its mirroring. Liquidity. The reflections on the waters is not you literally. But your vehicles effects across this plain are rippling consistently. Deliberately conditions are visibly indignity towards our self esteem. We all live behind a screen invisibly, you dont see the Brilliancy we recieved after eve's temptation of the tree. Saturns sycle grazed scicily. So *** was sold openly in the streets.  His story secretly on repeat. Shiva, kundalini, the eye opening. Idiocracy. Love whats at your feet. Gia gave you everything you need.  One day you will be free. This is all a very complex dream. oxygen needs blood to stream. All Hues are beautiful under the rays the sunlight beams
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Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 2:30 PM UTC
Hell on earth
They tell you to eat your wheaties and respect the kings and queens you only see on t.v. or in the bed with teenies. While these pigs devour our flesh their eating.  We starve and march to the drumbs their beating. We tried to find meaning through a church preaching freedoms. But While they built warships, we were chasing imaginary demons, out of lands to this day we still think were freeing. Instead of breaking bread to figure out the reasons. We build walls like the rest of the world aint humans.  Are we looking through the lens, because i cant seem to find any truemen.  This aint a movie, I know what moves me, and it will never be pre-tend. I care not what your creed defines, your needs are mine. And unlees we stand together we'll never be freemen. Believe me now, dont believe me when, theres nothing left to believe in man. The prison is your misery, unless your adolescents is at the hands of bill and hillary.  The only statute we have is a lady burning liberty. The corruptions is tyranny. So, when they try to analyze me its mirroring. Liquidity. The reflections on the waters is not you literally. But your vehicles effects across this plain are rippling consistently. Deliberately conditions are visibly indignity towards our self esteem. We all live behind a screen invisibly, you dont see the Brilliancy we recieved after eve's temptation of the tree. Saturns sycle grazed scicily. So *** was sold openly in the streets.  His story secretly on repeat. Shiva, kundalini, the eye opening. Idiocracy. Love whats at your feet. Gia gave you everything you need.  One day you will be free. This is all a very complex dream. oxygen needs blood to stream. All Hues are beautiful under the rays the sunlight beams
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