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"brilliantly" poems
Pursue the delicate moonlight shining beyond the scene, illuminating the grass of the coming spring in an ghastly silver yet majestic green Clouds with their sterling lining, the cummuters of the heaven, preventing the sun, or the moon sometimes from shining down to us, Seemingly caught in an endless journey they travel with the wind, Yet under these drifting clouds in the sweetest of lights, the world remains to be in slumber, a story which never truly unfurls after all, Can you gaze into a face fraught with sin, possessed by the one you share this dazzling night with on a day alike the tale of a dream ? Wrapped up under a celestial sphere, here where dreams and illusions collide within the sweet embrace of your strong caring arms, Finding rest I can leave my body to the flow of time as it passes, Grandually sweet seasons may take away ones breath with grandiose, Until the wish projected within your eyes finds its way to become reality, I will stand beside you with serenity and grace, till I may fade, I may not be able to hand over these feelings, but the grasp of tomorrow bears some power to it, certainly transient time passes, Let the depths of your heart guide you to a bright, fantastic future, Until then, shimmering brilliantly, shimmering behind the horizon, The Sun rises ~ Umi
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Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 7:06 AM UTC
Drifting Clouds
Do you remember how you stood there ? When the sun had set and the afterglow started to fade, you stood proud, slightly upon the dusk, brilliantly, majestically yet so tiny, You looked so lonely and helpless, as light faded into darkness, Covering the world; a sweet blanket filled with many twinkling stars, How impossible it seems to turn back, have you realized how you changed so drastically, my little sparkling friend over such little time? Irrational the things hidden away by the night, no moon comes to rise If you would realise, how this world really is, or the place you are being led, softly, gently, elegantly to stand would be like, what then ? Have you changed because, you calmly, without having any knowledge fear the night and it's lingering, loitering darkness ? The night is stained with illusions, keep your gaze up to the sky and follow another star, then surely you would be able to reach your goal, When you engage in pure furies, the whereabouts of the heart remain undetermined, you just lose yourself within its wandering fragrance, Because the world you had taken for granted collapsed into somber, Collapsed into a dimmer more frightening state of undefined beauty, Everything is far too late, impossible to return now, it has been decided that it maybe should have been so, a loitering darkness to be, You are part of this world now, standing where you are don't you think that this sky, slumbering earth is as allure as nothing else ? If it awakens your wish will become true and you will disappear by the sight of the daybreak, the sun takes over with her golden light, The world you have forgotten will reappear then everything starts a new and maybe one day you too will understand, my dearest, That the night is something very beautiful. ~ Umi
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May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC
Evening Star
Do you remember how you stood there ? When the sun had set and the afterglow started to fade, you stood proud, slightly upon the dusk, brilliantly, majestically yet so tiny, You looked so lonely and helpless, as light faded into darkness, Covering the world; a sweet blanket filled with many twinkling stars, How impossible it seems to turn back, have you realized how you changed so drastically, my little sparkling friend over such little time? Irrational the things hidden away by the night, no moon comes to rise If you would realise, how this world really is, or the place you are being led, softly, gently, elegantly to stand would be like, what then ? Have you changed because, you calmly, without having any knowledge fear the night and it's lingering, loitering darkness ? The night is stained with illusions, keep your gaze up to the sky and follow another star, then surely you would be able to reach your goal, When you engage in pure furies, the whereabouts of the heart remain undetermined, you just lose yourself within its wandering fragrance, Because the world you had taken for granted collapsed into somber, Collapsed into a dimmer more frightening state of undefined beauty, Everything is far too late, impossible to return now, it has been decided that it maybe should have been so, a loitering darkness to be, You are part of this world now, standing where you are don't you think that this sky, slumbering earth is as allure as nothing else ? If it awakens your wish will become true and you will disappear by the sight of the daybreak, the sun takes over with her golden light, The world you have forgotten will reappear then everything starts a new and maybe one day you too will understand, my dearest, That the night is something very beautiful. ~ Umi
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18
Facing the day with upmost pride, Praising each ray of warm, caring, wonderful sunlight, No matter the weather, they shine brilliantly, as children of the earth Being happy about rain, these flowers only grow thankful, for what it's worth Because these rain drops may look like tears, the scene may be sad, No sound, but the gentle tapping of the falling water onto the ground, but a lone standing Helianthus won't feel bad, For it felt joy in this weather,such can be difficult for some to be found A mysterious, yet beautiful lense, once the sky opens up a little for the sunlight to travel through again, inviting a rainbow through the sound of wind, My pessimistic outlook of this weather, the raindrops looking alike tears, changed, through it's brightness, rather don't they look like jewels of some kind ? My heart won't be drenched by sorrow, Alike a helianthus, I shall look softly, gently towards the sky, Towards the azure, ceiling beyond me. ~Umi
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Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 6:05 PM UTC
Helianthus
A proud man, Upright and unshakable In belief and morals, Once only I did I see him Without a tie. A child of Edwardian England, The links Of his watch chain Glinted As they hung With formality and elegance From his waistcoat pocket, Yes, even as he worked. And work he did. Patiently, Brilliantly and tirelessly With ingenuity and imagination. A craftsman from a bygone age. A master of his tools. Grandfathers are soft, Playful, bear-like in their Gruff-whiskered familiarity. Not Poppy. Unwittingly aloof from his grandchildren, We avoided the need for directly addressing him, Unsure of where we stood. He’d probably have secretly Loved the informality Of our secret nickname. I hope he knew. The chapel piano did for him. Too much weight for his work-weary ticker. Grandma gave me his pocket watch to keep, And for a time I treasured it, Measuring its weight Like a smooth round pebble In my palm. A workman’s watch; Practical. A yellowing face Behind a scratched And hazy glass. But accurate, And precise. Reliable as the man. Detached in life, I liked to hope that Gazing down, Watching, He just might have Laughed In loving acknowledgement of his Grandson’s curiosity And foolishness Sitting cross-legged on the carpet, With heart-thumping nausea Adrift in a sea of springs.
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Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 3:15 AM UTC
Lost Link
The goddess Of golden-faced victory Her head brilliantly decorated with green laurels Victoria, bestowing victory for what is named after her Down to the red-plumed Romans with their gleaming swords Nike, champion of the Greek gods. Riding the chariot of victory into battle The laurels catches the light of a mirror It dances away, after its victorious champion She may be a bit crazy or at least hungry For the taste of that sweet victory Let her be Roman; let her be Greek; She is never weak What one might say, she does not know For her victory is clogging up her ears Goddess of victory, we all want a taste of her power.
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Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
Nike - Victoria
Congratulations for you, my dear nephew as you have become today two, so very few years still, but your future is growing now can only tell you, you'll be greatest, don't know how but in some way you manage your life brilliantly I can see at your eyes, your love and life be fantastically I'll pray and ask the Lord to bless you immensely dear Hudson, my happiest wishes for Mum and Daddy be happy at heart and be wise from the start God has blessed you with brains that smart P.F. 2 July 2014, your auntie Sylvia © Sylvia Frances Chan
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Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
Hudson, my nephew
A little boy Neat white shirt ironed to perfection A monster truck plastered on the front Denim jeans, fitting his skinny waist just right Innovative Imaginative He loves creating new things Making plain old cardboard into the next best thing He gets his crayons Sharpies and all And runs to his room All excited on his new project, his new creation One piece of cardboard after the other Rectangles flying everywhere Coloring what looks like door handles onto cardboard? The vision isn’t clear, yet it will come together soon. He works quickly With a due date set in mind Full of ambition The vision isn’t clear, yet it will come together soon. He finishes his new achievement Smiling happily at his new jumble of handiwork Glued together precisely The vision isn’t clear, yet it will come together soon. He attaches the different shapes to himself Straps glued to the cardboard It seems he’s wearing armor With doorknobs and wood grain painted on it with pure artistry He hears someone come in the front door His smile turns to panic He quickly cleans up the supplies Throwing things around the room anywhere they fit He runs to the corner of his room He quickly pulls the “armor” close to him As he sits in the fetal position His armor becomes a small dresser that looks as if it was made for clothes The father bursts into the room With rage spelled out on his forehead The boy hides brilliantly afraid of the wrath to come The father looks around the room carefully *Come out Come out Wherever you are The next time I see you I’ll give you more bruises than last week altogether* He closes the door with a loud slam The boy unfolds his creation, a simple dresser Who knew that a young boy’s imagination Would protect him from all of the horror and pain usually unleashed on him
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
The Art Project
A little boy Neat white shirt ironed to perfection A monster truck plastered on the front Denim jeans, fitting his skinny waist just right Innovative Imaginative He loves creating new things Making plain old cardboard into the next best thing He gets his crayons Sharpies and all And runs to his room All excited on his new project, his new creation One piece of cardboard after the other Rectangles flying everywhere Coloring what looks like door handles onto cardboard? The vision isn’t clear, yet it will come together soon. He works quickly With a due date set in mind Full of ambition The vision isn’t clear, yet it will come together soon. He finishes his new achievement Smiling happily at his new jumble of handiwork Glued together precisely The vision isn’t clear, yet it will come together soon. He attaches the different shapes to himself Straps glued to the cardboard It seems he’s wearing armor With doorknobs and wood grain painted on it with pure artistry He hears someone come in the front door His smile turns to panic He quickly cleans up the supplies Throwing things around the room anywhere they fit He runs to the corner of his room He quickly pulls the “armor” close to him As he sits in the fetal position His armor becomes a small dresser that looks as if it was made for clothes The father bursts into the room With rage spelled out on his forehead The boy hides brilliantly afraid of the wrath to come The father looks around the room carefully *Come out Come out Wherever you are The next time I see you I’ll give you more bruises than last week altogether* He closes the door with a loud slam The boy unfolds his creation, a simple dresser Who knew that a young boy’s imagination Would protect him from all of the horror and pain usually unleashed on him
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48
My friend Amelia (real name, of course, redacted) is something of a pained Ophelia. The play's the thing, the part brilliantly acted; She stands alone by Hamlet's side, She sighs and moans and pouts and pines, and waits for him to be attracted. But Hamlet I know; He's a friend of mine, and for her heart, he doesn't pine. He's out to solve his father's ****** Let him go, Ophelia. It's all right. He won't be dissuaded by your ardour; your love won't keep him long distracted. Senpai; My Liege; it all rings far more familiar than it aught. "Notice me!" "Notice me!" or then again...                            not.
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Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC
Notice Me
I see jellyfish in the ocean of your eyes And I swear those translucent blue jellyfish Are just the remains of your mesmerizing marble eyes That shattered into pieces The second your eyes first met sunlight When I look at you I wonder Where all those jellyfish are heading; Spiraling down into the blackness of your pupil And I wish I could join them, I wish I could experience the rhythmic motion of comfort and solace That your eyes provide just by looking at them, But how much more would I feel If I could lose myself in them? Or maybe I'd be caught in the undercurrent of your thoughts, Maybe you'd **** me in and I'd never want to leave the black bottom of the ocean in your eyes; Maybe I'd fall in love with the secret places the jellyfish don't dare to go, The things I wonder when I look at you, So many thoughts flood my mind When I trace my fingers across your lips And stare at the beautiful jellyfish That glimmer so brilliantly in the darkness and the light. I wonder what I'd find down there, But I think that's my favorite part about looking at you, This is one thing I'll never really know; I guess I'll just admire you from my boat, And continue to be lost in the sea of your eyes Admiring the translucent jellyfish from afar.
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Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
Jellyfish
My mother warned me about the monsters underneath my bed And the ones hiding in my closest She told me about the monsters in the world too The ones that would take advantage of me And possibly **** me She never warned me about the monsters With a perfect waterfall of hair And shimmering magenta lips She never warned me about the monsters with a perfect smile And eyes that shine as brilliantly as the moon Or the monsters with freckles that drape like constellations on their cheek bones And the monsters that look at you with a piercing gaze it hurts to breathe She forgot to warn me about monsters with soft skin and devious minds The monsters who walk so elegantly and taunt me with the swaying of their hips The monsters that creep under my skin and speak gentle words into my ear Mommy why didn't you warn me about the monsters that don't look like monsters at all? The monsters that lure me in with their beauty and eat me alive Until they've managed to rip open my sternum and take my heart
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Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 3:04 AM UTC
Monsters
Lights shining bright Through the busy night I met you When I was feeling blue Words bubble up Like a soda pop Whenever I'm with you I feel so new There's something about you That draws such an alluring hue It makes my heart thump fast And make my whole world vast Hey, you I have something to tell you It is a piece of my emotion Sent to you with great passion Hey, Sunshine Why do you look so fine? I keep wondering why As I get lost staring at the blue, blue sky Hey, Sunshine I like how dazzling you are Like those cute smile of yours That erases all my problems and worries Hey, Sunshine I like the way you shine brightly Like those sparkling eyes of yours As you look at me with a radiant smile Hey, Sunshine Keep smiling brilliantly Like an ethereal flower in full bloom Captivating me again as always Hey, Sunshine I like those cute smile of yours The same way you make me feel happy It makes my heart flutter Hey, Sunshine Will you be mine? I really like you How about you? ....
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Aug 19, 2021
Aug 19, 2021 at 1:08 PM UTC
Hey Sunshine
In Stardust, Is where can hopes be born, But also, where a star has died, violently, explosively, shining out light so brilliant it would roar if it hit the atmosphere, illuminate it, It is hot, alike the purgatory with a sweet look to gaze at if you observe the planetary nebulae by a far, far distance of course, The dreams of the nova remnant, spread across space, left is but a small piece of dense matter, pulsating light cast by it's fast spin, It is but a pulsar, or rather this old lady could be called one of the many lighthouses of our beloved widely beautiful universe, Shining brilliantly even after death, isn't that what we all desire ? If sadness clouds your judgement and you have nowhere to run, And if you feel lonely in a starlit sky, worrying about the past long gone, losing yourself to your recurring, cruel thoughts, Just remember, that you too, once were part of a bright, shining star which once too used to brighten up the dark, cold night for one else. ~ Umi
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Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 6:08 PM UTC
In Stardust
His eyes flickered so brilliantly He'd often melt his skin.
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Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
The Curse Of Passion (10w)
I imagine this midnight moment's forest: Something else is alive Besides the clock's loneliness And this blank page where my fingers move. Through the window I see no star: Something more near Though deeper within darkness Is entering the loneliness: Cold, delicately as the dark snow, A fox's nose touches twig, leaf; Two eyes serve a movement, that now And again now, and now, and now Sets neat prints into the snow Between trees, and warily a lame Shadow lags by stump and in hollow Of a body that is bold to come Across clearings, an eye, A widening deepening greenness, Brilliantly, concentratedly, Coming about its own business Till, with sudden sharp hot stink of fox It enters the dark hole of the head. The window is starless still; the clock ticks, The page is printed.
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4.6k
The Though Fox
There lives a woman who Seems mystical, even mythical --It is true-- Because she is biblical; Rarer than a precious jewel. She is virtuous She is loyal She is courteous... She is royal. She shines brilliantly, like a star cluster trapped inside a room. She glistens like jubilant sun rays dancing atop the ocean. The wind of her voice sets inspiration in motion, Like a sonic boom. She is powerful. She is virtuous, Who is worthy? Just Wonder & coil In a corner & toil As you ponder this. And honor this Acknowledgment, Because she is royal. Don't dare compare her to the likes of Nefertiti or Isis. They are not so estimable, You couldn't buy her even with a million zeros before the decimal, Because... She is priceless. So the King adorned her, Because the King adores her. She is beautiful, so they say, But such a meager word could not suffice, Because her true charm emanates like waves In the ardent expression of her practice of life. And from her mind and her soul. Her precious heart--more precious than gold-- Looks like a kaleidoscope of rare gems, Darting dazzling colors; the spectrum in whole. Diamonds die in comparison, Hand her a diadem... She is special She is jovial She is gentle She is royal. She is not haughty, Nor does she flaunt like worldly wenches do. She tells girls who've been told they're peasants they can be a princess too. She is not naughty, Nor does she taunt like wanton vixens do... Because she is godly. Yes, indeed there lives a woman who Seems mystical, even mythical --But it is true-- She is virtuous, She is royal... She is you.
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Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 9:36 AM UTC
She is Royal
There lives a woman who Seems mystical, even mythical --It is true-- Because she is biblical; Rarer than a precious jewel. She is virtuous She is loyal She is courteous... She is royal. She shines brilliantly, like a star cluster trapped inside a room. She glistens like jubilant sun rays dancing atop the ocean. The wind of her voice sets inspiration in motion, Like a sonic boom. She is powerful. She is virtuous, Who is worthy? Just Wonder & coil In a corner & toil As you ponder this. And honor this Acknowledgment, Because she is royal. Don't dare compare her to the likes of Nefertiti or Isis. They are not so estimable, You couldn't buy her even with a million zeros before the decimal, Because... She is priceless. So the King adorned her, Because the King adores her. She is beautiful, so they say, But such a meager word could not suffice, Because her true charm emanates like waves In the ardent expression of her practice of life. And from her mind and her soul. Her precious heart--more precious than gold-- Looks like a kaleidoscope of rare gems, Darting dazzling colors; the spectrum in whole. Diamonds die in comparison, Hand her a diadem... She is special She is jovial She is gentle She is royal. She is not haughty, Nor does she flaunt like worldly wenches do. She tells girls who've been told they're peasants they can be a princess too. She is not naughty, Nor does she taunt like wanton vixens do... Because she is godly. Yes, indeed there lives a woman who Seems mystical, even mythical --But it is true-- She is virtuous, She is royal... She is you.
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56
Locked in I was and grey spatter I spit under fear I crept for satan's name, used so, at my dawn and at my wake my own voice, soft like flowers who tremble under trees so steadfast then upon not one, but many a sunrise, my voice grew up to be wind ~my love out-loud in the living room prayers and fears to sentence my mouth not one more day Freedom knew me my pen knew what it wanted at 11 picking it up at 27 never so brilliantly has ink bubbled
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Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 1:36 PM UTC
Locked in
glowing waters, tranquil as though the ocean were holding its breath and yet breathing in and out, in and out rhythmic, an inexorable drum an explosion of ripples as I drop the kayak in, the disturbances swallowed by marsh grass, waving in protest murmuring to be still, stay still. I shift in my seat, heartbeat in my ears, loud breathing scared of being swallowed, lost to depths where darkness clung – yet hardly imaginable in this world of dripping sunlight. dip the paddle in, tasting the waters right, left, right, left cautious, careful, clumsy at first splashes of droplets as I pick up the pace, salt on my tongue, tasting the burn. the pull and tug of muscle against the world, a silent war the ocean protesting futilely, but surrendering to the kayak with a creaking moan as I shoot through the water like an arrow, splitting the curling, white-crested sea. the wind picks at my braid and throws it to the past with a lingering sigh my paddles cutting through that glossy mirror of cloud and sunshine shards of brilliantly stained glass.
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Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 10:38 PM UTC
Learning to Kayak
The impetus                      Of being Always on the run                Through pinwheel eyes                               Those standing by                                           The mystic roadway :    River Blues yet to be brushed                       or in blush                            Of evening chill's breathing a canvas like windows dreaming felt All mindful And chockfull O'                               Wonder Then ponder                 Yonder "window breaks"                          Past the wilderness' sleep Bone heavy wood                              Umber earth                              Past whoosh and rush of liquid Folding on itself / a soundtrack       Listen now       Pedestrian be Mindful of the cautionary whales                                                Old Ahab’s yell                                   Obsessions                            Fears                                    Or loathing. If one is drowning in one's sleep Look wildly                   widely                               Blithely                                     Down river   Or up there beyond finger's point                       Sidewinder snake journeys Until sky and below it All meet The distance         Now only a line                  Coalescing what is beyond                       Our ability to see Far and away     Evanescent          Effervescent                      Ever after                                    River.     Life. Here we are And proud      The free spirit is fluent            With the rapid rivers loud                             Always on the run Currents like a child's curiosity ... How then, When or why                         does it end ? Where do we go?                      Like most things existing,            Will lead to the high art / love's deep oceans...            We often forget to seek                               And mind                                      the sublimations/                                                             d¬¬rift wood. So then, Begin with a dot . A speck of dusk                      A burst of light                                         A starry sky, pieces to mastering                    Raging fragility of water Liquid undulations                       Folding itself in / volumes Or falling from on high        A droplet cry Then the lightning                    (crash or bloom) From the heavens                                  like electric rivers So brilliantly                    Festoons Where do we go (so low)        There and here / underfoot /                    Over north / southern sleep                                    To oceans twilight deep? Go wrapped or map-less Or no.             Up                 Way        Up yonder There up there                     Everywhere                     All without fear... My heart like the river yearns                  To go toward the sun                        A flow /                                      the beating drum Always on the run And      Yet             Still                     Here.
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Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 3:58 AM UTC
RIVER
The impetus                      Of being Always on the run                Through pinwheel eyes                               Those standing by                                           The mystic roadway :    River Blues yet to be brushed                       or in blush                            Of evening chill's breathing a canvas like windows dreaming felt All mindful And chockfull O'                               Wonder Then ponder                 Yonder "window breaks"                          Past the wilderness' sleep Bone heavy wood                              Umber earth                              Past whoosh and rush of liquid Folding on itself / a soundtrack       Listen now       Pedestrian be Mindful of the cautionary whales                                                Old Ahab’s yell                                   Obsessions                            Fears                                    Or loathing. If one is drowning in one's sleep Look wildly                   widely                               Blithely                                     Down river   Or up there beyond finger's point                       Sidewinder snake journeys Until sky and below it All meet The distance         Now only a line                  Coalescing what is beyond                       Our ability to see Far and away     Evanescent          Effervescent                      Ever after                                    River.     Life. Here we are And proud      The free spirit is fluent            With the rapid rivers loud                             Always on the run Currents like a child's curiosity ... How then, When or why                         does it end ? Where do we go?                      Like most things existing,            Will lead to the high art / love's deep oceans...            We often forget to seek                               And mind                                      the sublimations/                                                             d¬¬rift wood. So then, Begin with a dot . A speck of dusk                      A burst of light                                         A starry sky, pieces to mastering                    Raging fragility of water Liquid undulations                       Folding itself in / volumes Or falling from on high        A droplet cry Then the lightning                    (crash or bloom) From the heavens                                  like electric rivers So brilliantly                    Festoons Where do we go (so low)        There and here / underfoot /                    Over north / southern sleep                                    To oceans twilight deep? Go wrapped or map-less Or no.             Up                 Way        Up yonder There up there                     Everywhere                     All without fear... My heart like the river yearns                  To go toward the sun                        A flow /                                      the beating drum Always on the run And      Yet             Still                     Here.
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100
Let me continue the story about a guy named Akshant, Who belonged to Mathura in India, once the city of Krishna. Akshant rejoined college and scored acceptably well this time, He had realized his mistakes while he was to stay at home. Repentance on committing mistakes intentionally was ripe, He barely controlled the regret from flowing through his eyes. Anamika was the only friend who was by his side in this time, Giving him relief from loneliness which rang as the door chime. Akshant had a poor memory so not much could stay on his mind, Stressing his memory too much would only make his brain to grind. Akshant then studied cautiously holding onto Anamika's hand, Cautious he was not to crush it as he had formerly done to others. He brightened up his professional life along with the romantic life, And he scored brilliantly given his mental health was really affected. The dried clots inside his brain were still an issue two years later, But he controlled himself to not harm others from his anger. The clots used to come out through as tears and ear wax, Almost all was physically well after three more years. Akshant went Kodaikanal after his bachelor's degree college, He was an eligible bachelor when he had a job confirmation. This happened when he was drifting away in the Kodai lake, Anamika who sat next to him in the boat congratulated him. Now Anamika confessed her feelings for Akshant in the boat, Akshant couldn't find any words & found himself quite quiet. This made Anamika challenge and taunt about his manliness, Which caused Akshant get enraged & kiss his reply on her lips. The boat swayed terribly in the star-shaped lake's still waters, Anamika ogled & felt her hair get wet & this made her ****** Akshant. She started kissing him back now & her eyes were coming back to normal, These had been wide ogling when Akshant had started kissing hard and so it was.
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Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
7 Seconds - Part II Of A Poem Based On My {Unpublished} Novel
Let me continue the story about a guy named Akshant, Who belonged to Mathura in India, once the city of Krishna. Akshant rejoined college and scored acceptably well this time, He had realized his mistakes while he was to stay at home. Repentance on committing mistakes intentionally was ripe, He barely controlled the regret from flowing through his eyes. Anamika was the only friend who was by his side in this time, Giving him relief from loneliness which rang as the door chime. Akshant had a poor memory so not much could stay on his mind, Stressing his memory too much would only make his brain to grind. Akshant then studied cautiously holding onto Anamika's hand, Cautious he was not to crush it as he had formerly done to others. He brightened up his professional life along with the romantic life, And he scored brilliantly given his mental health was really affected. The dried clots inside his brain were still an issue two years later, But he controlled himself to not harm others from his anger. The clots used to come out through as tears and ear wax, Almost all was physically well after three more years. Akshant went Kodaikanal after his bachelor's degree college, He was an eligible bachelor when he had a job confirmation. This happened when he was drifting away in the Kodai lake, Anamika who sat next to him in the boat congratulated him. Now Anamika confessed her feelings for Akshant in the boat, Akshant couldn't find any words & found himself quite quiet. This made Anamika challenge and taunt about his manliness, Which caused Akshant get enraged & kiss his reply on her lips. The boat swayed terribly in the star-shaped lake's still waters, Anamika ogled & felt her hair get wet & this made her ****** Akshant. She started kissing him back now & her eyes were coming back to normal, These had been wide ogling when Akshant had started kissing hard and so it was.
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30
The pendulum swings at a steady speed Inevitably life upon me feeds I dreamt of real in my illusion Destiny like free-will a mere delusion Today’s all but gone, am I still intact To pull love’s knife out of my back Brilliantly dim this light of mine I strain to glimpse the bottom line These nights do linger pain becomes art The Cut that Never Heals still bleeds my heart
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Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 8:21 PM UTC
REVISITED
You take these brilliantly colored pills to paint your soul in a way that that can be done with only the trigger of a gun but the piano's song is not yet done swaying with death you're starting a game that plays in blood your heart may flood, with the dance of a discontinuing thud the ground is holding us all down is it possible to be released from it? or is the shot our way out from these ties. when the piano play it's final note you can't help but want to be numbed it feels better but, your angel won't tie your arm they hide the beauty from you in the needles they keep from you Fight it softly make the holes reappear make the lights reflect from the glimmering things you hear leave now, let the gun take you out to the beat of your life you aren't living now.
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Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 4:38 AM UTC
Angel
Lately, When I’ve tried Opening the gates The locks to my kingdom It’s simply impossible to accomplish. I’m terrified, Terrified, Of being ‘open.’ What does ‘open’ really even mean? Am I supposed to investigate Every dazzling petunia? Conduct a survey among my local hydrangeas? Or maybe I should consider taking a hibiscus As my teacher In order to learn the art of blooming. Flowers mastered The art of opening up to the world, Without the fear that those around it Will shine more astronomically More brilliantly Than they. Yes, I wish I was a flower, I wish I did not care. I need to learn How not to care Like a flower. Flowers may be ‘weak’ But they’re still stronger Than me. My skin is too soft- My shell might crack And it will break open And you will see That there’s nothing left inside me And I will carve myself open To prove it to you. If I open up Like a flower, I’m sure to sustain an injury Or a lot. Trust is a butterfly Easy to crush Impossible to take And wow When you have it It’s an amazing thing. But when it’s gone, Oh it’s an Ugly Mangled Dead thing. When did this trust Fall out of my chest? Did it shatter when it fell? Because it’s sure broken Into a million pieces And it is mangled and ugly. I am so broken So fully broken Hugs are poison And your touch Could burn the heart Out of me. I’m just anxious I’m always nervous My veins itch and When your eyes dance on my form I become physically ill And when you put a hand on my shoulder I’ll jump like a suicidal bird in flight. These nerves are eating away I’m being dissolved by their horrid bleach And my organs are already mush.
0
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 1:54 PM UTC
I Wish I Was A Flower
Lately, When I’ve tried Opening the gates The locks to my kingdom It’s simply impossible to accomplish. I’m terrified, Terrified, Of being ‘open.’ What does ‘open’ really even mean? Am I supposed to investigate Every dazzling petunia? Conduct a survey among my local hydrangeas? Or maybe I should consider taking a hibiscus As my teacher In order to learn the art of blooming. Flowers mastered The art of opening up to the world, Without the fear that those around it Will shine more astronomically More brilliantly Than they. Yes, I wish I was a flower, I wish I did not care. I need to learn How not to care Like a flower. Flowers may be ‘weak’ But they’re still stronger Than me. My skin is too soft- My shell might crack And it will break open And you will see That there’s nothing left inside me And I will carve myself open To prove it to you. If I open up Like a flower, I’m sure to sustain an injury Or a lot. Trust is a butterfly Easy to crush Impossible to take And wow When you have it It’s an amazing thing. But when it’s gone, Oh it’s an Ugly Mangled Dead thing. When did this trust Fall out of my chest? Did it shatter when it fell? Because it’s sure broken Into a million pieces And it is mangled and ugly. I am so broken So fully broken Hugs are poison And your touch Could burn the heart Out of me. I’m just anxious I’m always nervous My veins itch and When your eyes dance on my form I become physically ill And when you put a hand on my shoulder I’ll jump like a suicidal bird in flight. These nerves are eating away I’m being dissolved by their horrid bleach And my organs are already mush.
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73
Covenant park central parallel, east-side west waiting on the print defender (and Lichaten queen) he appears randomly, and distorted with a broken smile shuffling down the Smithright trail with his Mac Tack and cinnamon shades (sun bags and thrift ware stacked neck high on a rusted rat-trap) An open end panel van crashes the curb as the long-board dodges the tail and kicks up some flare the plumb tree and Sunbeam double wide hold steady in the driver's fish eye as the warehouse carny and "tire-less" 510 shine brilliantly... in the dull, dripping scene
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Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 2:11 PM UTC
Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear