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WS Warner Sep 2012
Hearing fogged drops of rain
Precipitate violence in the Amazon,
Against the placid Leaves;
Left disheveled the unfiltered forest.  

Dampness divorced from its thin vapor blur
Plummeting memoirs retold, the cradled
Past returns its own, splintered light
Edging the threshold of infinitude,
Axiomatic slippage each fell cold.

Fallen moisture recovered,  
Once nourished the ancients;
Correspondingly, we align.
Lineal descendants,
Tides of March,  
Sibilant waters flow through us.

Hoary myths, now hallowed imminent.  
Ponderous, our torn skies cleft, clouds suffused in grey─
The emergent pour, casts a montage of
Freighted silence, implicit tapestries
Sewn seamless; our kindred froth ashore.

Pedigreed continuum bound in common plight,
Unseen flood of halcyon
Dust and flesh coalesce beneath the torrent;
Genetic lines merge ─ intersection of
Time and eternity.
From the same water we drink.
Lineal descendants,
Tides of March,
Sibilant waters flow through us.

©2012 W.S. Warner
modelb0nes Apr 2013
Just thinking
of nothing really.
Just of how fog
can lay over grass
Correspondingly
and some things on earth
aren't even possible.
Like the fact that I can't even go
anywhere without thinking
of nothing really.
just of how you
correspond with me
amid pentagrams

satelliting my mind

an outward location

of an ostentation

that lids a voyeuristic eye

to Da Vinci’ fingers in a jar

waiting anxiously for them

to move, perform an ******

panache of evocative art

but they are congealed

in a stalactite shiver

that lacks transmitted urgency

but contact with these

enigmatic digits causes

a correspondingly delayed

then urgently convulsive frenzy

that somewhere in time

bring frictional contact

with a canvas or a ceiling

Da Vinci’ fingers in a jar

an outward location

of unclasped curiosity
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
is it me or does Led Zeppelin's all my love of the burnout feel akin to The Doors' hello, i love you feel similar bigger than Spirit's taurus, i think it does, the sparkle-clad-show lost. after being born in the 20th century i feel no nostalgia, nor regret, why is nostalgia the bridal maid of history? if threes are a Poseidon's tridents - history, nostalgia, memory then correspondingly: how it is, what if, how it was - respectively. i'm also prone to the nuance of Jamaica in D'yer Mak'er... or Lenny Kravitz's my love (the twang, not the message - necessarily tiresomely true, not Kula Shaker's govinda) - but this is still early 21st century, we're well ahead of ourselves, Miloshevich (a.k.a. Geert Wilders) vs. Blaire at the Nürnberger Prozesse - bachelors and barristers and lawyers have this thing about defending democracy and the spread of justice wearing Mickey Mouse's gloves spreading colour, and to boot: as if **** didn't affect them...

hunter (a) - see a silver-back politician scurrying past like a rat?
hunter (b) - was it scurrying with a ten-tonne white elephant?
hunter (a) - might have been, very much would be.
hunter (b) - what was his name? i have a fail on face recognition.
hunter (a) - we nicknamed him Hannibal.
hunter (b) - yeah, he was here, went grey-haired
                     like a hare on steroids the minute we mentioned
                     the Arabs weren't sponsoring any foreign
                     investment in the internal combustion engine
                     as having no future via the investment sector
                     of conscience via the law-courts having lost.
hunter (a) - that's him!
hunter (b) - a mile ahead, a Kali icon with the skulls
                     of twenty Saddam Husseins around its neck!
hunter (a) - if i were a pensioner i'd shout bingo right now...
                     ah, **** it... BINGO!
hunter (b) - you're very much welcome.

there exists no democratic essence in history, history isn't democratic because it's theocratic in the examples of who's remembered, if democracy would reign over the practice of historical investigation, no one would be remembered, it would be democratically just to forget the stupendous and the un- of so stated consideration, history is investigated by theocratic resolve - no one actually voted to remember Saladin or Genghis Khan, democracy played no part in these figures being remembered - why hasn't democracy involved scientific scrutiny in its argument to persist? by scientific i don't mean chemistry, biology etc., segregated from the humanist studies, by scientific i mean omni-, the all embracing - after all, history invokes a memory of absolute anti-democratic examples of ruling, given present concepts of democracy none of these figures should be remembered if democracy is to experience a pinch of **** ideology of being a pure idea without deviation into ideology that might hijack it - but it's just that - the purity of the idea, always persistent, coupled with the mongrel tactics of it being exercised.
Gabriel burnS Apr 2019
I’m walking around the sun
Witnessing a new dawn that’s
always there and I
Can never reach it
Walking around
Such a distance
It’s hurting to see it just
Exist
Wondering what it is
And me, I’m not even considered a planet anymore
As if my celestial body does not have
A correspondingly celestial mind
I am both present and gone
Merely taking up space
In someone’s classification
Of spacetime
Pluto...Out…

*   *   *

Ходя около Слънцето
Гледам новата зора която винаги е там
И никога не мога да докосна изгрева
Обхождам
Толкова далечен
Боли да виждам съществуването
Като присъствие
Без да знам какво е
А дори не съм смятан за планета вече
Сякаш небесното ми тяло
Не притежава съответстващо небесно съзнание
Едновременно присъствам и ме няма
Само заемам пространство
В нечие определение
За времепространство
Плутон - край...
I translated my poem into Bulgarian
Dear Pandemic of Solitude,

I am grateful I can still put two words together after
two years, and that the body I borrowed still has
a little time left to be returned.

Outside, the sound of rain makes things real.

The sound of the thunder rages amongst winds frustration.

I say, "I lack, therefore I am".
I say, "I am but a craving for more when and
at the same time, I know that to lack
I am correspondingly full".


Sara Fielder © Apr 2022
Vianne Jun 2021
'Classmates'

No words could foretell how enormously this statement troubles me. Not because of the word classmates itself... but how one would define the mere, trifling word "classmates". For some, it solely means "individuals whom you share a room and a teacher with" but for us... It's unutterable, carrying so many distinct sentiments. Too.. many sentiments. Ones that could not flow out beyond our lips how they do beyond our hearts. Though allow me to assure you from now that possibly after a few days or a few months... or maybe it will take us a decade.... and even our entire lifetimes. Still, as time breezes at the fore of our orbs, stopping for absolutely no soul... We will find new faces and fresh, delicate grins that will completely melt us. A new light, a new pathway, a new adventure. One we will be sure to relish till the very end and a new heart for us to choose and treasure, and for it to love us back correspondingly. We will fail to remember the memories. Not because we chose to. Not at all but because time stops for nobody. The future awaits your presence and so do the memories that it will be sure to grant you... Both sounder and graver memories. We may even find ourselves chuckling at the terror that we felt as we allowed the class's memories to end, lastly realizing that the change was the best of this universe's plan for us. We will thrive and progress and strive to be better because of our past memories... But they are not there to haunt us. They are there to escort us through the galaxy of endeavour... and they shall distress us, surely. No core wishes to loosen its set, desperate grasp latched on to its past. But believe me, people, when I tell you that life will not come to an end when you decide. It won't stop. Not in one million years and not ever. We will not forget the memories altogether... but surely, we will forget the emotions that our youthful souls felt back then. A smile will creep its way to our lips as we mock the innocence and naiveness that we carried within us back then... Little do we know that those memories, though now forgotten, will forever be engraved onto our hearts, bleeding as new envisions shape our book's middle and ending... We will forget. But now, while you still possess those memories, don't be afraid to remember. Because at some era in the far, far future, your eyes will scream and the rage will flow down your flushed cheeks as the past fades. They have seen so much... too much. The story that your orbs carry.... the mind will eventually forget. It's truly a shame that the heart could not speak though... because if our running feet and our old hearts and our weeping eyes could read our life's book, they would tumble down mountains. We will forget. But for now, remember and remember and remember. Do not even dare stir away from the past due to fear of unruly longing to return to the memories you once called home. Don't be a coward. It takes 0 effort to forget but your entire world to remember. And that is why it will hurt. But it will be so
******* worth it.


"Are you not tired of running?"
Their voices would echo amidst her soul... "How could I?" she would ask with the wildest of grins.
"When living is all I know."

I will smile because it passed. And I will laugh because it happened and shaped my future for the better and nothing less.

Even after my eyelids seal, and the horizon ignites atop the fiery shores. At the end of the night, I shall endure on my two feet, once more. All alone, certainly but I will get through the hell of this life. Because this heart of mine, though bent, refuses to die.

Because you have shown me the power of dreams when they are sought after. Even if each breath takes a lifetime to catch.

I will cross borders, gaze beyond the obvious and search for what makes us blind. I will live. With purpose.


Until we meet again,



Salsy
violavics Jan 2020
A wall can stand before you
or a curve ball may strike after you;
do not be frightened --
for as long as I remember:

The most painful obstacle
shapes you in the most secure
well-being

If you face mischance,
serendipity will visit and
welcome you gladly in its arms

Reflect correspondingly

Tug tightly and treasure
There is so much more
that awaits you as you glide through
your days

Second mountain exists --
you simply have not
found a map for it yet

Navigating through rip tides
may let you dwindle or spiral
irrepressibly
until you reach upon arrival

Nights of journey can be redirected,
as you carry on with what you held on to
closely and dearly

If you face mischance,
opportunity will knock and
welcome you gladly in its arms

Act suitably

Open graciously and seek
There is so much more
that awaits you as you shine through
your days

This world that you were brought into
will teach, nurture, and cradle you
as you spread kindness around

Greatest gifts may not be discovered
as of now

How will you resonate?
You are courageous.

January 14, 2020
Qualyxian Quest Jan 2023
Charlotte is a pretty name
She warbles as she flies
She and Bob in Tokyo
Smoke gets in your eyes

If I died in Paris
You could go to Notre Dame
If I died at sea
You could Ishmael your mom

I want to go to Germany
Have a Bavarian pretzel
I too know anxiety
Just do your best, Ms. Emily Wetzel

Moby **** in my car
Mr. Markson on my shelf
In Seattle Green Arrow
In London Legolas the Elf

Nuclear war is likely
The Apocalypse of Fire
Shakyamuni indeed correct
Suffering is caused by desire

The Zen Center is silent
I bow and bring my tea
Hagia Sophia
Please let the future be

              Correspondingly
Anton Angelino Dec 2023
Hum into my ear, love song, hip hop, anything.
Pull me closer, hold me, let go, catch again.
Make me feel like I’m tipsy, make me melt like caramel candy, slow.
Make it like eternity, if there’s no afterlife all we have is now.
Don’t forget how I made you feel.
I remember how you made me feel lovable.
I’d experience it all again before I catch up with Amy and start blowing bubbles, evermore.
Be a fan of anything I do.
Don’t refrain from making me mad.
Be your sweetheart and *****.
You’re so warm but so frozen, I must not let you go or I’ll die.
You’re too like me to let someone else make you happy, I’ll make you happier.

Silk.
Caress.
Bleed.
Conquer and withstand and win.
Brutal.
Ethereal.
Sweet.
Yearn and compete and win.

That rush that runs my veins uneasy feels like lemon in the wound.
Correspondingly it wears me out to an extent a bath can’t fix.
I just want a kiss that feels right, like an arm’s brush over dew.
But instead I’m forlorn in a labyrinth of stars hung from deciduous trees.

Metal.
Burn.
Blossom.
Cry and contemplate and adore.
Monumental.
Skyward.
Impossible.
Dream and capitulate and succeed.

I can’t love anyone or so I think cause I’ve never been happy.
*** isn’t sweet without strings of attachment tied around us.
All I ever attempted was to make myself feel worthy of loving.
And when I catch a ray of stardust I feel out of time to follow it up.

It ain’t perfect, love is so hard but soft and so am I.
It ain’t a walk in the park or a summer beach day but a fall down the well of my heart.
It ain’t easy, love is so ugly and pretty and so am I.
It ain’t anime, I’m not a protagonist of any kind, I don’t get happy endings.

But I tried.
Poem #14 off “Bella Goth”

It’s about yearning for idealized and flawless love with perfect people - it doesn’t exist though.
Qualyxian Quest Dec 2020
Ye shall know the truth
And the truth will make you free

It will also terrify you
Correspondingly

Solitude is lonesome
Near the Sea of Galilee

I'm now on my ownsome
But phone calls to my three

                  It's just me.

— The End —