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"celadon" poems
Eyes of pale celadon refulgent in the dusk lips of skin so thin they grin around the tips of tusk Jagged saw-like teeth beneath a sagging beastly jaw the putrid reek of flesh and cheek he's gobbled - nights before His pointed nose will point his toes when he snuffs you shuffling by the fright enough will be so tough your legs will lignify! And once he's done he'll click his tongue his mood enhanced by food he'll walk home late and ululate his deepest gratitude
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May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 11:05 AM UTC
Beastly Gratitude
i detached my mind's roots from what had grown along the inside of my skull like a patch of celadon poison growing up the walls of a brick house inhibiting other plant life i wrapped the vines around my hand and up to my elbow into a perfect wreath thorny and dry my fingers bled less conscious than usual all I could think was this was easier than I'd expected
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Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 6:18 PM UTC
the vines are mine
I watched her write Love on her arms it flowed like lava as the meaning was felt ripples of hardened flesh with hot plasma and her cooling kiss scratch that one off the bucket list (codetta) To tattoo love on my lids finding you between the highs and mids when the lights go off you are there then you reappear in the strobe and LED atmosphere All I can do is wish... you were here too unravel the shutters of my soul (segno) to embrace you in a place more real animate my memories to simulate surreal stimulate thoughts my body can not feel till my lids reopen to reveal a deck used to project a black massif sunset platters pressed with disco tech soluvum's spun to some rung of heaven I's reflect; eyes ***** to mirror mystery celadon mandela murals and memory a nebula of history (fine) When eyes see you come (:l) Below the surface afraid you'll run yet steady marching to a heart shaped drum echoing the song of the lord god capon we've gone deaf to the celebration Eyes close when kissing to lock in what's missing maybe to hear the rush of blood hissing maybe to capture the sound of oceans shifting maybe to feel the steady rise of hills below our feat maybe that's why we hum synchronizing our meditation Maybe to become one symbols like wedding bell vibration (dc al fine)
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Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 8:34 PM UTC
Wedding Bell Vibration
In Africa the lissome eucalyptus leaves Sharply ovoid, a washed celadon, Turn their silvery backs, yield, bend with The promise of on-coming rain. You taught me this Sign, this tree-voiced prediction, long ago, among The tenderly sloping, densely viridian hills And heavy, somnolent, rolling fogs of Iowa. And so, I turn my back. I yield, oh, how I yield. But, you didn’t foresee, didn’t know How, much later, my heart would Flake and flay How great sheets of myself Would peel, would fold Would slough off just like The bark, the back of those massive whitened eucalyptus trunks, you Didn’t, couldn’t foretell how this long union Scars, clings, sinks so deep, tattoos itself so that eucalyptus-like, despite Repeated rain lashings, leaf bowings, droopings and sun decimated leavings My heart, my soul sheds, molts, reforms, renews itself and just as those Sharpened leaves arch and curve and arc and sway So I bend, I turn, I give in, I give in To the chafing wind, to the scouring hurt, to The on-coming African Rain.
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Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
Eucalyptus Revised
*Glorious wanderers on Death's celadon globe Stride- in sombre ceilidh- the arsenic haar, Mantle of Dis' harrowing of derelicts. Feral shadows stroking the hollow strath With crimson paces aloft Acheron's shores, The Erinyes, in macabre cavalcades Walk the land, bereft, forever of aubades*
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Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
Erinyes
she tasted like sorrow, and the color you get when you mix pretty myrtle green and storm cloud gray.   what perplexed me the most was that despite her celadon elemental taste, her lips were fiery warm to the touch.   when i put the proverbial cup down and opened my atramentous eyes, she was grinning slightly.   her own eyes glittered like the ocean i had come to visit most days in her giggles and words. but the sea’s backdrop was the apocalyptic-esque orange-crimson death of Ra.   it was almost like they were speaking to me as she wiped her rosy lips.   what a beautiful language to learn.
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Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 2:49 PM UTC
her//on love
Queen of the fallen tree and the gneiss ridden shore, ruling over an empire of celadon moss and early spring waters, you stand off to the west (of me) and i see your breath shift over your lip and dissipate in loose tendrils against the evening sun I catch him staring up at the trees arced over our heads with a strange boyish grin, this is sorta what I imagine my life to look like he says *all this **** in the way and then beyond that it's clear.* He wipes his hand across the sky as if to illustrate the supposed clarity beyond the tangle of branches.  I am startled, I meet his gaze briefly and nod because if not a mess or entanglement, what better way to describe the way I feel than to elude to the bracken and brushwood ? Out across a wire fence, deer gather quietly and stand stock-still as we pass, aloof if not for their big inquiring eyes watching us smirk and bump shoulders because we don't know how else to be close (I already tried my tricks). But he surprises me now and again with his gregariousness with a determination to get to but an equal pleasure in idling, in stillness, in gliding across my instep, performing quick studies on my nails or briefly succumbing to the shadow beneath my collarbone-- Quite arbitrarily, i ask for his pocket knife but it's him that carves our initials into the snarl at my feet, his hood pulled close around his neck as he sets to work Bis now with those hands that have been kilned and slipped with engobe, I am stirred stirred stirred and awake awake and afraid.
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Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 4:49 PM UTC
Quaking Snapshots: Act III
Queen of the fallen tree and the gneiss ridden shore, ruling over an empire of celadon moss and early spring waters, you stand off to the west (of me) and i see your breath shift over your lip and dissipate in loose tendrils against the evening sun I catch him staring up at the trees arced over our heads with a strange boyish grin, this is sorta what I imagine my life to look like he says *all this **** in the way and then beyond that it's clear.* He wipes his hand across the sky as if to illustrate the supposed clarity beyond the tangle of branches.  I am startled, I meet his gaze briefly and nod because if not a mess or entanglement, what better way to describe the way I feel than to elude to the bracken and brushwood ? Out across a wire fence, deer gather quietly and stand stock-still as we pass, aloof if not for their big inquiring eyes watching us smirk and bump shoulders because we don't know how else to be close (I already tried my tricks). But he surprises me now and again with his gregariousness with a determination to get to but an equal pleasure in idling, in stillness, in gliding across my instep, performing quick studies on my nails or briefly succumbing to the shadow beneath my collarbone-- Quite arbitrarily, i ask for his pocket knife but it's him that carves our initials into the snarl at my feet, his hood pulled close around his neck as he sets to work Bis now with those hands that have been kilned and slipped with engobe, I am stirred stirred stirred and awake awake and afraid.
Continue reading...
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rain mist wreathed virid groves of evergreen sun languished behind clouds grey overcast sky lachrymose; distant rumble thunder;brontide pellet-laden gusts of wind;cold leaf-stirring nubivagant drops falling glistening foliages rustling; celadon leaves rain-washed brushwood damp galore humus dewy silence; gerful downpour incipient
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Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 12:32 PM UTC
Floresta[when it rains]
I’ve seen love In movies, viewed parting lips, glances through a glass— To know: I’ve never felt the heartbeat of another sync alongside mine But my mind, it holds Skin, salt, of sea waves who may feel the scratch ofthe sand for-half A second, to then be dragged away, how many, I ponder, are alike? It must be an ocean wide, those For whom this ache is commodified. I fear—I am A blossom, bearing fruit, which knows it will fall soon; It is but a matter of time before I am crushed underfoot... .
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Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 8:10 PM UTC
Celadon
The clear beau sky above my head The fresh celadon grass beneath me All just brings happiness to me
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Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 12:13 PM UTC
happiness
A branch I cannot bear to be far from Lifted on wings from spell of yonder blue Soaring high, we watched the blossom come Lo, as leaves will turn green to umber hue So now, as still we reach for further on Lifting, the leaves will show their underside And bare a shade of fractal celadon A light beneath for wilting blades to hide But once they drop and scatter at our feet Until the breeze, let’s walk through tumbled time And stay until new buds mature complete For memories that hang need fall to climb As we ascend until the season’s passed The boughs will brace, for such bold love does last
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Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 11:25 AM UTC
To my little crumb
R coral cinnabar crimson carmine cerise claret cochineal cardinal burgundy ruby scarlet vermillion O apricot amber carnelian topaz nascarat saffron jacinthe tangerine Y flavescent lutescent xanthic citrine jessamy ictericious ochre meline G vivid viridian olivaceous teal zinnober porraceous and eau de nil caeisous virescent cyaneous corbeau celeste celadon pavonated azuline I cobalt peacock prussian pthalo saffirine aegean denim blue V amaranthine amethyst violaceous plum heliotrope purple violet mauve ianthine porphyrous lilac lavender too
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Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 7:24 AM UTC
roygbiv (rainbow colours - just for fun!)
All of life is dead and the Sun has set. Wet is the battlefield with blood after the brawl. Stenches of death and sweat from both sides, divides and drenches the trenches. Sounds echo eerily quiet; quite loud and profound. All is for naught, as the vultures of the President descend. The celadon leader smiles as he looks upon his ****** empire. His vicious hunger is never fulfilled and his smaragdine iniquity smothers. He wants, no, needs more; a never-sated, rapacious desire. A broken country built on the backs and deaths of others; evermore he wants and he wants evermore. An incessant life drowned in cupidity and submerged in green, but he is never jaded. He is a ***** emerald without valor. His unclean desire for money recklessly expands as a deep ravine. Avarice trumps the morals, while he spreads a pestilential malignancy through the air. The sacred blood of innocents binds together his laurels. But the need for greed is exponential and blinds him to his error. The mindless masses amass themselves at his mere feet, but his mere feats only sum to immense ignorance and hate. As he continues to stand for nothing but hypocrisy, and his sycophants continue to vacuously prate. It is a lesson for us all as a warning for our souls. Covetousness is a viridian plague with no cure. He corrupts spirits and gains unrighteous power from the polls. But he is no leader, he’s only a false savior siphoning from the poor.
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May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 9:31 PM UTC
The American Dream Part I
It's only the time To be alive with the sunrise and pied piper Tryst with miles to go and trials with her To attend to migrant dreams in stylish clinics Attending to a cure for the surprised Heading towards a placid flirtatious expression I mistook these looks for affection Only time will tell If the love was alive Placid flirtatious surmise Silken, celadon hangs on the balcony Trying to escape the sunlight entering The lantern near the beside Open the bookend, marked the page After sultry kisses washed away on peach skin Rosy cheeks, and nimble feet Just touch and your body quivers Your toes move a little quicker As the clock ticks Only time will tell if I'm alive Body stop, free prose next to my bedside Lately, the time has fallen in the silence As delightful, this sounds and summed up In time, I'm alive as we make the connection Inflection of our tongues intertwine at the eyes That hold gazes over the kisses Sojourn the day, sleep at night Are you in spirited my child like my poems Let's fly together on thoughts that know no measure Let it be love that takes us to that pleasure Sittin' next to my bedside Now you're cured and my poems have found structure In your alive lively motherly arms, where I can cry for eternity But, I must confess I don't in this virile panorama Free and strapless, I can see your heart which I dream of vividly I sit and conserve this memory on physical adaptations in my poetry Your body is poetic silence, that's where my metaphors lie All this love in my head, I guess fly first 'cause I'm shy one here Subservient to your will, lovely surrender isn't it?
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Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 9:16 PM UTC
Alive
It's only the time To be alive with the sunrise and pied piper Tryst with miles to go and trials with her To attend to migrant dreams in stylish clinics Attending to a cure for the surprised Heading towards a placid flirtatious expression I mistook these looks for affection Only time will tell If the love was alive Placid flirtatious surmise Silken, celadon hangs on the balcony Trying to escape the sunlight entering The lantern near the beside Open the bookend, marked the page After sultry kisses washed away on peach skin Rosy cheeks, and nimble feet Just touch and your body quivers Your toes move a little quicker As the clock ticks Only time will tell if I'm alive Body stop, free prose next to my bedside Lately, the time has fallen in the silence As delightful, this sounds and summed up In time, I'm alive as we make the connection Inflection of our tongues intertwine at the eyes That hold gazes over the kisses Sojourn the day, sleep at night Are you in spirited my child like my poems Let's fly together on thoughts that know no measure Let it be love that takes us to that pleasure Sittin' next to my bedside Now you're cured and my poems have found structure In your alive lively motherly arms, where I can cry for eternity But, I must confess I don't in this virile panorama Free and strapless, I can see your heart which I dream of vividly I sit and conserve this memory on physical adaptations in my poetry Your body is poetic silence, that's where my metaphors lie All this love in my head, I guess fly first 'cause I'm shy one here Subservient to your will, lovely surrender isn't it?
Continue reading...
39
Painted Atelephobia Inevitable is the oblivion afeard within celadon gardens. In the center a cerise bloom reaches clouds with ruby fingertips. Not I will touch sunsets as she. Click is the cardinal heel of white collars which soar in cerulean skies. Still I stand on russet boots stuck in mud. For the wings on my back have been clipped long before. Aye is the color changing leaf. Not apace is she, yet still grows skillfully radiant. Evergreen bristles with no compare to her auburn tint which gracefully touches winds and sails the seas. A green of dark hue flies not so angelically. Never will I be the shadow in your eyes, nor the dimples on your cheeks. Never will I stand from the crowd and bloom like her. Never will fly nor soar nor swim. Never will I be good enough for you.
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Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 11:41 AM UTC
Painted atelephobia
No matter what color you are, Red Orange Yellow Green Blue Purple Brown Black Beige Viridian Atroveins Glaucous Zaffre Amaranth Gamboge Vermillion Amber Eburnean Fulvous Celadon Chartreuse You are still you :) ヾ(≧▽≦*)o
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Nov 19, 2024
Nov 19, 2024 at 5:27 PM UTC
You