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Bows N' Arrows Feb 2017
The wave that crashed
my soul
The seashells bedecked in gold
The mess I couldn't erase
with every trace of constellations
pulsated a face
And the day gone black
under a bedsheet
Wine spilled on a cuffling
The longing for drizzle
and rain
The levitation from the
Earth like tripping windowpane
A watchtower showing you home
You are the well I'm crawling
down
( To float in the clearlight )
The alchemy and sigils in stone
A voice that mumbles
in my sound ears when I'm alone.
I blame Lord Byron for my romanticism, he often wrote on laudanum.
Arcassin B Nov 2016
By Arcassin Burnham

.... Like I said, embracing your skin would be a dream within a dream
And within a dream and within a dream,
You asked me to give you my honest opinion...

I guess that I don't
Wanna Lie To You like the child that draws on his mother's wall with
Crayons and then lies and says that his sister did it, but little did he know
His sister snuck out awhile ago,
Sitting in the moonlight in a Honda civic with a her boyfriend kissing on
Her neck and tearing buttons,
I just wanna know that if we get through the friendzone that I could touch
You like that someday in mid discussion,

With no complaining, not into rushing,
You'd be my cuffling,
While we cuddle,
And while we swap spit , real teenage lovin',
Angels be singing , up in the conscious , they sing like Minnie,
Miss you dearly , when you're not here the.. world isn't pretty,
Baby I never..wanna make you cry... You're so eccentric,
I like it so much , we could both be weird and so dependent.



/



We don't got time to be wasting on the world,
we don't got time to be wasting on the world,
Why won't you be mine? I'm so tired of all this friend ****,
Why won't you be mine? I'm so tired of all this friend ****,

There's something you should know,
cause I built this trust for us....
I wrote your name on my phone...
I won't let this come between us..
So right your name on my phone...

Like Christmas in July my eyes light up with pain and shame
And memories behind it screaming for the day I'd get to kiss
You like the married couple so that we should be sharing like the
Motto never ended plus the caring and I'll be yelling , I said
We don't got time to be wasting on the world,
Oh no We don't got time to be wasting on the world,
I'm like why won't you be mine? You'll soon be knowing tonight,
This isn't our final ride, I just wanna be with you.
©ABPoetry2016
http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2016/11/hi-love-thanks-for-*******-me-over-ep_15.html
Gosiame Legoale Jun 2016
Hey,
I offer very few words often preferring that my riddles get ushered out in scribbles, it’s the chosen if not more cowardice stance but I plead sincerity. It’s my forum, sanctuary and how I speak to the world. It is how I speak to myself often where I am brave enough to part with that which I would rather, normally, and sometimes with reason, keep close chested. Bare with me if you bid, I’m still breaking into rhythm. I free write, so may encounter a misplaced line. It happens when I let my mind roam free, I don’t do properly constructed very well. I digress.
Yours smile. That laugh. Your thighs. Your nose. The way you get upset at absolutely everything. I dig that about you and was foolish enough to take it for granted. Not define really, so used to rolling with the punches I half left it neglected. Shame, a consequence I seek to amend. Alter. Be it a tad in vein. I’d rather that I have tried. But oh your smile, that laugh. I long for the Sundays that never were. What they could have been only the fates will know, you were the habit I quickly adopted and like any good habit, I didn’t see it through. The injustice of being a ***** is the role play of hindsight, retrospection, you can do very little by such except replay it, the ***** of torture I gather. A travesty if you ask me. You thought I was bemoaning the luxury of you being a convenience; I missed you for the sake of missing you. I can’t fault that train of thought, it crossed my mind and consider how it was I was able to portray neglect, valid in every sense. I’m thinking now. It pretty well could have been. It probably is but there is also the lingering frustration of what could have been. The possibility, it had barely sparked and then, load shedding. Brogues of frustration. I do enjoy you though, thoroughly that had to count for something. I can only hope
Those words still burn, how I was so comfortable with my life and my ways. I am, and reluctantly there was likely an aspect from myself adverse to the change, I gather though it has more to do with the systematic flaws I carry around at not being able to fulfil that of a consummate boyfriend. Perhaps I am selfish and unfamiliar with how one steers clear of trouble. How not to get scolded is but a foreign concept I gather, being aloof second nature. The very things I would imagine an initial trigger being the most irritable, it would then have to come from me wouldn’t it. So stuck in my ways and always expecting the conforming into my ways leaving little room for anything other than that. I gather it has to do with mine tentativeness at the matters that come attached with relation meaning that soon enough my flawed character is left bare et al for the scathing universe to see and picking it all up again, not so fun. Perhaps it’s my little defending.
To try for an explanation I am a very selfless ******* and I hate that. It leaves room for train tracks to tattoo my flesh and I think I’m sick of the second fiddler role. Friends to family and those I generally consider I may care for. It’s a part of the Gosiame matrix and I often realise or stupidly so that you get very little back. You the great guy, that is about all really. I have opened up to the prospect of relation and the thing is when I do, I really leave the door more than ajar, I don’t hold grudges but it burns. I think. I don’t wish it on any I am not fond of, and there is only so much of numb we can all endure, even I have my limit of spilt drink and the love that was. I may have opened the door to the wrong parties but then again I have never claimed to be the best judge of such. In any essence I am a toddler to these things so a little coaching and patience does really go a long way. I am a terrible human being, more so when I hate that you get jealous at what I have considered second nature before you came along and then realise that I too hold the ability at this thing called jealously, some character probably has me acting a fool in the fist cuffling cuffing fights I have imagined us engaged in. That is as far as it goes nor will I admit at being human. I like my super coo unattached unbothered aloof stance.
You came at me like a gust of wind and I got taken in by the fun of it all. I will admit to that. I wrongly imagined what will be will be as is the prerequisite if you are me and well that the roles will identify themselves. I think I am being repetitive. I am habitual. I claim to hate routine and my small comforts, in truth I probably enjoy complaining against them far more than I do being drawn away from them. In any case, you would need to be very clear if there is any fool hardedly romantic stuffings to be done because my lazy self will opt to steer clear of any pants and make out with the remote control while yelling at the tele. That day I imagined you would make your way over. In truth I thought it one of your unreasonable rants all over again, thought you’d calm down, make your way and well that never happened did it. The lack of boyfriend in me had at no junction sought to reason that she may need to get met halfway, I apologise. In my mind I had not canned our plans, just altered. I think I know better. Look I need stick it notes for the thoughts I had five seconds ago.
This is getting ridiculously long winded and moving in a roundabout way. I like that I could possibly refer to you and your forehead as my girlfriend. I like you in all you’re B Cup glory, that they could just be perfect for you. I won’t make any false promises not to anger or infuriate, as the way history runs down for us, but I will do so only in a manner that makes us unique, fun, bearable in a sense. I had a hand written letter and then you scolded and thus I knuckled down to type this, consume ridiculous amounts of this ridiculous coffee and ask forgiveness and show you that I am learning. Did I mention that I miss your ******* and the way you tend to cup them? I made fried rice and it was so lovely, can’t get over such. I’d like to give it or us a solid go, if not only for your laugh, oh and I keep getting these things that require a plus one all the time so that could be handy but more so because I want you in unimaginable ways, manners that I can’t even describe to myself. And I’d hate to walk away from what could just be the best thing to happen to me, no that smells like a line, the sexiest. That rather!
I miss thee
PS. Will you go out with me? For like real this time? In real life?
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2020
i have until 12am to come up with something...
i've already come up with three
bottles of cider - the last teasing some brandy
signature -
the cashier at the local supermarket
once had ambitions to train as a paramedic -
she's still the cashier and i'm still the drunk
in the hours from 9:30pm through to 12am...
i feel proud to just don a beard -
that's three ciders and a tease of brandy and
two sudoku puzzles solved -
i'm relaxing... i'm about to make listening
to music on headphones an eVENT...
just like my internet access is static and does
not have a smartphone access -
a laptop - armchair - me all hunched begging
for yet another insomnia crow to croak
in flight over my head come these nightly hours...
there was a reason why i started to reflect
on owning a radio -
and have almost forgotten my entire record
collection...
i had doubts: they said they would tax
alcohol... the price of the ***** hasn't gone up...
but i'm pretty sure i could buy
a poetry oeuvre for circa 20 quid...
i too thought that buy a philosophy book for
over 30 quid was: a bit steep...
2nd hand i'd max out a saving for probably 5 quid...
books like women...
the more second hands the more mandible
the beauty and more of the allure of what's to pass...
just saying... who needs virgins
in plastic sleeves still scented with crisp and mint?
women like books... women like leather...
women like jeans -
women with mistakes...
less all this transcendental ******* from either
Rumi or Dante -
hey... me you... there's the gutter...
let's play poke the hogs...
i will not stress rhyme - or wallow in some:
utopia me love story...
no rhyme just some blah blah interludes and:
a belief in disinhibited letting-go:
call it chauvanism call it a lack of sleep call it:
apathy - i would also to wish to care:
but then this sort of care would make me
a sadistic nurse - the sort of caring invoked
here for the opposite party - the shadow cabinet -
is a sadism: pedantry is masochism:
believe me when i say that: the pedantic linguistic
enthusiast is a *******...
care my ***: only today i was wondering
with someone close to me...
how the hell did i pick up this slang
slobber of a walrus in my mouth?
i mean... calling an irishman a paddy is not enough...
it has to be elevated to: riverdancing leprechaun...
same with ******...
and i don't imply a spectrum...
but the story of the niqab and satan's postbox
i've heard in england back in 1994...
nothing new...
no... this is a piquant... a tartar steak word...
windowlicker...
that has to be the most prized asset of the english
language... along with *******...
and... the people who made money
selling jumpers with the word: DUFFER
printed on them...
i can't choose... but windowlicker is
up there with *******...
eh...

that's just how imagined my tuesday 11pm:
circa shouting: quorus!
quorus! looking out for my maine ****
11kg+ harry windsor to come home...
cat ladies or no cat ladies...
the trouble with keep pets...
well... you have to vacuum the ******* house
every day, don't you?
and wipe the floors every second day?
and taking care of the **** -
and what not...

cool name though: thankfully the ******* chose
it... i'd imagine what it would sound
like should it be: QUA - as being -
RUS... eh... an O for an A...
i can get away with calling my cat:
as being rus...

but no... no great adventure...
windowlicker is up there with *******
in the english language...
as the conjunction insult on the sly -
the sort of word that's worth a cuffling
when you're dealing cards and wearing
a shirt and a tux...

maybe the word is mine...
i hardly hear it in pop lingo...
now that's truly audacious...
perhaps a remains of the past...
****** is just subtle...
point being: i sometimes call myself
a windowlicker -
self-deprecating that i am prone to...
no... wait... how could i forget...
aphex twin...
glaring obvious... well... a short study
in etymology... origin: aphex twin...
and i'm pretty sure if we round up all the users
of the word... and out them against the wall
and a greta fun-berg firing squad...
if only aphex twin used the compound variation...
and there was no oxford dictionary debate
about the hyphen...
plain and simple: *******, windowlicker...

i am so pleased that this ended up being:
hardly an ambitious write.

— The End —