"crowdy" poems
A dozen fellows draped in threadbare tread densely,
Profligating goons in obsidian gowns
gathered under rainbow
moonshine shaking bronze hands,
howling and ****** in the shambles of the moon,
rap'n and nod'n to the notes of midnight.
The mellow marines mourned over malice,
lionizing over lost ones,
many howled venerated, exalted in wonder
in favor of their thrilling grace, and delight,
and brilliance, and might!
but some neighboring sticklers,
behaved haughty and in disdain,
of the crowdy Cavaliers bellowing echoes
signaling out
to the seers of the sea,
singing to the wands overwatching the wedding,
and ravens listened,
roving like noble patrolsmen.
Traveleres and trainees at sea
humble and bright
niave, and frieghtened
in traverse,
volatile and toiling,
tireless,
Lunatics, (laughing, laughing, laughhing,)
Rumaging through rain,
fireciely,
rallying and rableroused,
through towering halls of mohogony,
hefty and wholesome were their hearts
though, beast of the woodsy edifice
were foul and benumb
scowling with contempt,
haste to devide and devised to hindrance.
Hence the heroes heed
to the valleys of rose, and violet,
and strawberry fields of forever,
seeking Saint Nicholas,
in the bustling Byzantium,
in the murky shadows of doubt.
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC
Life walks by
and in a useless longing
I dive into the crowdy time.
Then, unexpectedly,
a chord fills my mind,
words arise together
sieging me in opacity,
in a growing uneasiness
of a mouth full of marbles
that finally fall
with a heart rythm
as omen stones of a sybil voice.
[14.11.14]
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
A mighty voices raises for the time
Life started with the name of he
And Ended with Rhythms of She,
Finding he in a crowdy beats
With Hope Of Running soul hearted of She.
Walking in a path to find a shadow of he
But life plays an role to meet a new love as She
Saw Her first time met her first time
As She was the shadow before of mine
But a time left a voice of mine as
A beautiful Wanderer of Rover life....
I flight away by Lonely and silently mourning
On burning fire soul of mine.
She blooms and glows and shines,
And stares silently as the dry leaf of bright plant...
It smells and weep and tremble
Before love and the pain to find
it out Until the Next time again..
With the new name of Life & new time with the name of he
And will End the Rhythms of She.......
-Chirayu..
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 12:45 AM UTC
8:55 or even 9:30
but surely Pm...
I dont remember the time
i never dont remember it!
Its crowdy over there
some mobs moving from shop to shop
listening to hip hop music of babbling society.
I sat on that rock beneath the pillar
waiting for the bus...watching the time[but i dont remember it]
listening to the silent tickling of cruel watch
innovating the ideas to **** time.
A man sat infront of me
i dont know from how much time he was there
i dont even remember if he was there before me
but he was there.
He wore white dress but its not white...
its ashy black.
His stomach is more like a bowl
liberating starving howls of hunger.
Beside him is a women
who is as thin as a grasshopper
and she wore no pant or anything covering
but she wore a long shirt...long enough...
and she got that secret ingredient
in long pocket of her rusted shirt
that gummed his interest from the beginning.
Give it to me- asked he
she ignored
Give it to me...he raised his voice
he raised his spirits
she...moved a little like a worm
and taken the thing from her pocket...as long as her hand
as her eyes scintillated like an angel
an angel trying to reveal her glory
she took out some powder
a black powder...not gun powder
some tobacco powder.
She powdered it...even powdered it with her thumb
grinned it...and finally
raised her neck and opened her mouth...ate it
elegantly
...i can see the flow of powder through her pharynx
and then she smirked...she didnt noticed me seeing
she didnt noticed anyone seeing her...but she smirked.
I love her smirk.
Then the man asked him to give him this powder
but she ignored him
forced her to give it...but she repelled
then she gave it...gave it being helpless
and then she smirked...not caring the loss of her property.
He wrapped it in a paper
and kept it deep in his pocket...a corner
where everyone keep their gold.
Horns...
your attention please
bus number 6712 arrived at platform number 3...
we raced... towards the bus
following the rhythms of horns
and thats it...
thats the final time i saw her...materially!
Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 3:42 AM UTC
WARTHEMATICS
The road to war a reserved grave. The beginning of it, a hell aforementioned. Household goes to firm with the best anticipation of celestial ascension above. Pick three to make two, bury wit, never to mar chew.
Beat from the heart
The very voice to define Riffle’s
**** can’t be so dumb !
Not to be mistaken as a strong explosion on the Sahara
Whining of the Babies send a gravy message
All is read in silence, even in seconds
Paths, so crowdy like no Adam was ever made
Pests, Lizards overthrow the market around,
Roads are best ridden by goats
Scary heartbeats dominate the atmosphere
Ever befitting chorus,
Remains the sweet songs from Guns.
Eye above lost counts of Donts
Does seem scarce like the touch of Saint in Gommorah
If it lasts more than months,
You will miss the look of your Edifices to bulldozed yards
The bests you cherish now lay in pieces,
If not far gone become a story
If you still tell the stories,
Let’s meet on the alter next Sunday
All !
In the Art of War.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 10:29 AM UTC
Lights gazing
Shadows pass by
Whispers and murmur
Never reaching my prize
Multitude of chaos
Altitude of difference
Even amongst the crowdy mob
I stay amending my angry sob
As drastic as the light and night
Will I always seem like an unreliant ghost
Never bothered or cared
As i stand alone with a silent stare
Days pass by
Seasons glide by
But still am like the Happy Prince
With metal tears to be covered till brims
Alone and ghostly I will ever stay
My story with just a bit of a change
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 6:06 AM UTC
Not the vast beauty,
Thy lovely petals hold
Grew my crowdy love for thee
For even if monster thou were
Like unwholesome caliban
Same pollens of love
I would have filled thee to the brim
I love not thy beauty
For not forever I may have it,
Truly,my love sprang,
Before thy beauty I saw
And lives it
when thy beauty is gone
Beauty is just a lender of love!
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
Reclusive turtle soloing about its ribcage for one bestie' tendency.
After spent the night in its master's clink full of candelabra with Earthlings, the turtle doesn't want to go to thine torturous awry cotillion where everyone is fumbling for the right words.
It is happier to mate with the bestie while all the misnomers vibrating as if they would penetrate into the soul lucidly. Seeking gratification by every frottage and endless non-penetrative *** whispering straightforward colloquial language became a morbid fascination.
Beastie frighten and enthralled the turtle with Sigillum Dei like riffs from decades of its polytheistic worship, machinations and machinations of coercive persuasions unlike crowdy psychopathies who pay no heed to propaganda and their mutual ************ provoked by **** star personality taxonomy and *** toy fabrication.
Turtle caused beastie a impairment of memory because of its anonymity and disruption of beliefs.
Falling in love with you like seeing someone else dresses in my skin. What I want to do to you is systematically indoctrinate you through torture techniques.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 12:19 AM UTC
I know you are broken
I guess how you feel
Crowdy emptiness
But you are not weaned
I know you are weeping
Still searching for pill
Even in hurting
Human gets involved in
Please avert your eyes
From something unreal
Just take what you need
Because it stills here
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 4:39 PM UTC
The girl who got away
Blocked her account
And left me with her memories
The girl who got away
Won't look at me now
But, will notice me in a crowdy street
The girl who got away
Probably, likes watching movies with someone else
But, watches the same movies we watched all over again
The girl who got away
Probably, got a lot better in terms of physicality
But, her heart is a bunch of bandages wrapped with each other
The girl who got away
Loves reading books
But, cannot bear to stop imagining life without reality
I just keep finding her in that library called love
The girl that got away
Met me for the last time
Leaving an everlasting memory which said, "I've moved on."
I finally understood what it meant after I loved someone else
And finally, when I gave back the books, I took from her on rent
She appeared to have become a cautionary tale
Quite quaint isn't it?
Unless I have moved on with dignity
And gratitude on display
Here's my book in a time capsuled by nature
Titled "Gratitude"
For a lover's fortitude
Each fortnight, this love story brings me strength for eternity
For swingin' lovers looking for respect
Jul 19, 2019
Jul 19, 2019 at 4:44 PM UTC
On steep plains, it fades like weight
Compressed beneath crowdy privilege
Plank-wood biscuits crumble, fettered for ants
Dusty fingers bury colors, vibrant life
But the crowdy privileged glance through
The compressed, like a stolen breath of rest
Oblivious to the struggles, the weight
Of poverty's crushing, suffocating fate.
© Mikelson
Dec 29, 2024
Dec 29, 2024 at 1:56 PM UTC
You wanna change me
From what I am
For this ****** heads
Who judge you by every turn.
You wanna make me perfect
From the beautiful imperfections of mine
For the perfect that ****** heads have designed
Who never ever know to see the real beauty.
You wanna see me good and crowdy
From the holy loneliness of mine
For standing amidst that crowd
Who knew not to respect from heart.
You wanna take me
From the peace of difference I created
For the motioning ***** drives
Who is emotionless of themselves.
You wanna me to be happy
Oh so do please let me
Live a lively life of mine
That I deciphered from the imperfections of mine.
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 9:07 AM UTC