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SassyJ Apr 2016
Feel the chains change in me tonight
Condense me to evaporate in want
The long of a bounce to another world
Light the fire to burn deep and fervour

A belly roasts in repetitive embers flushes
Hearts tied connate as the essence flashes
A tangle ribboned to last after the dawn
Testify as our sparks infinitely ignite dances

Titaniums of our tectonic plates merge motions
A convergence entwined in bordered emotions
Link me in the convections of transformations
Conversations of a lasting warm benevolence

Paradisiacal chum of a past in resonance
A photographic collection of a lived long life
Unwrap the snare, unwind the erased tapes
Lay back as we hide away behind the moonlight
touka Apr 2018
a few words to
knock my mandible loose
I set it back into place;
she can be sure
my ears are ripe to listen

her nails grew
in her rearing days
clamantly
clawing
'til quiet is connate to me

condign, burke
a silent sting

spoil, spoil, spoil
spare the rod
save a disparate word
and you turn to strike the wind from me with it

snag my heart
on something keen
rip it from my filthy sleeve

cosset my mother when she cries
bleed my wounds to quell her whine
I could never spill enough
to sate that empty barathrum

just waits to lay me in her snare
lets the bile sleep on the tip of her tongue
best to burn the skin that's young

upheave and hurl my cares around
would I wait for your sorrow?
for your penitence?
I long for it
but it would be swallowed up before the moon could set.
grief creeps in on me
like the morning
Ravindra Singh Aug 2016
Seven trees with flowing winds
Leafs free in rooms to sky
With its known roots and kind widths
Making its own will reply


Several plans in twiggy stair
In cause to his own seeds
How i lien to thyself so fair
Asking horizon for more deeds


To connect ways to climb
Sheer growth in veins to wins
By grasp the matter clime
Leer faith into green dins


Flexures to its first leaf
A  seer , round and huge
Intimate bond to evergreen deaf
Connate spirit to age & use
Dan White Jan 2018
Slowly I walk towards the wall. Someday, somehow, some say, we will all face him. He is not me, not like the one I imagined but instead a reflection of a fragment that has disappeared ages ago. And I know one thing for sure: long before my first and last breath, everyone is here.

A last stand… Beckoning.

A blurry scene collapses like a rose’s thorn crushed by a hammer, and it’s heaven. Fresh air breezes throughout the field like a thousand winters summoned  in a hot air balloon; one pop, and it might burst.

Instead it dies.

Blackness fades into nothingness as light bends darkness when desperateness serves greatness. A tiny yet almost invisible terrifying spot of delight. All will come true and limits are met only when reaching the neverending centre again and again.

The concentric circle.

Never have I felt this much euphoria as time feels decay; the process of giving and taking, for eternity. And never have I dreamed so much desolate fueled nightmares until tonight. A night to remember for the ages as ages tend to burn with backwards conspiracy.

A feast for the new millennium.

Tragic meets company as destiny embraces chaos when a tall figure stands opposed to a small ocean vessel. Waving fiercely, with strong arms. Screaming against the absence of light. But not tonight, not anymore. Maybe never, yet always.

The destined traveller.

Always wandering but never here as the room grows from specs to pyramids; standing great and longing connate justice. Ever towering, never to look down, yet always pondering. In spite of desire, thirst is not quenched, however the stalactite still grows slowly.

The remains.

Nothing is sacred and with the fidelity of strangeness interwoven its frontier is bubbling with the force of insecurity; the final pillar of a marble treehouse. Leaning. Never to leave, never to stay, but always here.

Forever.
A allegorical stream of consciousness concerning different aspects of (my) life.
Vitriolic scathing psychological malevolent jujitsu
cruelly, fiendishly, incriminating
lambasting opprobrium rue
teenly dished out to yours truly

mechanically engineered hatred to stew
when passive aggression fostered corked,
where self destruction grew
tens of decades ago, when this then
much younger match chew

Scott doubted, hesitated, lollygagged...,
where in solitary confinement he brew
toxic shocking rancor towards father
and mother peaceful conflict resolution
they did eschew

much preferring hurling epithet laced
expletives out their respective mouths flew
acrimonious, furious, noxious...
which poison verbal barbs knew
no letup, nor elicited any reaction their

once upon a time adorable boy,
where they did view
my welworn, passive,
and inert mooching
their unacceptable hashtagged

ill begotten progeny you
know who, if not (spoiler alert) i.e.
this generally conscientious contemplative
enlightened self anointed guru,
albeit modest rarely

doth he (me) ballyhoo
brutally damning, flagrantly hellacious,
judiciously loathsome in *****
tibble malicious venomous tirades shew
wing no merci, when I long

overstayed welcome, yet feared moo
ving way past the age when most
grown children can't wait to pursue
autonomy, emancipation, independence, et cetera.

faith no more actually never prevailed,
only inculcated self hate
buzzfeeding iniquitous, inferiority,
incompetence, et cetera innate

worthlessness, despite positive feedback
when cute boy, but emasculation did penetrate
availing self as token "scapegoat" suffering
suckerpunches mainly name calling to deflate
an already feeble self confidence early

in mein kampf, I experienced
existential nihilism, and negate
purposefulness to live reinforced
as extremely introverted lad,
whose mien did connate

defenselessness subsequently rain
of incriminating abuse within
central processing unit did infiltrate
giving latitude for destruction to resonate
with suicide fueling anorexia

nervosa to exterminate
one germane measly, puny,
quirky... objective to obliterate
self, though parental intervention
did unfortunately vitiate,

whereby fast forward flickr
of pride did generate
altered states of perception
allowing, enabling, and

providing spirit to resuscitate
analogous preceding childhood's end,
when joie de vivre did dominate
and thy singular life innocence

and naivete didst insulate
glorious ebullient boyhood
I try to recaptcha filial love
as papa doth alleviate
crushing oppressive pennilessness.
yellowgogh Aug 2020
standing across more than a sea,
with a supposedly related sky
of the connate stars
from the universe
of the same creator.

breathing similar air
of different habitations,
stepping on the inconsistent heights of land,
swimming within unalike taste
of sea waters
and, out of millions beings that give:
joy, sadness and, other emotions.

i choose you.
touka Feb 2018
the ground is all
but under my feet
and
i lose grip
on whatever tethers me

my breath
as a bitten, threadbare rope

still

prolonged to cling to connate hope

somewhere between old and new moon

in dark,
i linger
on my last swoon
sit somewhere sidereal
seething in its last touch feel

unsure of how to temper it
and how my want to decrements

still

i want to land on solid ground

and hope to hear a voice call out
as stars tangle above earth's crown

— The End —