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"dayless" poems
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind! Brightest in dungeons, Liberty, thou art; For there thy habitation is the heart— The heart which love of thee alone can bind; And when thy sons to fetters are consigned, —To fetters, and the damp vault’s dayless gloom— Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom’s fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor and altar, for ’twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace, Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard.—May none those marks efface! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
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On Chillon
Ever the fruit-laden Mother, whose flickering belly shows signs of nightless day... dayless night. Unadulterated call of plumbed natures, spelling upon her belly...creative tensions unstrung to bind bounty. She engrained the music of silence, to filter these slower light years. Reflections of mirror images...cadenced in hope.
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Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 10:25 AM UTC
Flickering Belly
What is an object in the light is a moving shadow in the night. Stand between them Shoot them in the head and dance with their demons. Tessellate and heavy eyes It's mourning And I'm still up. Open my eyes to the blinding light In an ocean of darkness, I sea. Time becomes length Thought becomes sight Vivid consciousness takes flight A troublesome delight. Slip in Slip out Dream in dream out Dayless nights Tiresome wake A moving shadow in the night Is but an object in the light.
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Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
03:19
hidden deep inside the corner where reality's a sham a boy recites the memories of his friend the mad man. "the jackal laughs in riddles so you'll surely loose your way there can only be one hero." is what the lunatic would say. "The silence is drowned by reverb that leaves these moments set in stone, as the moon quakes & trembles and the stars shake & moan The night leaves us dayless trying to catch us by surprise but will answer all our questions when man meets his demise. We're the faux pas of religion another lost & broken tie there's no such thing as Heaven for those of us that die. There's only Earthly rotting as we're absorbed into the womb to be recycled and re-used then born again too soon."
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Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 9:26 PM UTC
Recycled and Re-Used
One day weeks to months, 1 year decades of centuries We are ageless dayless yearless call us monthsless We the enemies to time we repel Our love is a story untold It never runs any old. In her absence days feel like years, Yet a year is like a day in her presence. Time apart from her Is as good as time in hell. How old are we? Everyone is curious I blame them not This love is burning Interesting Luring And exciting But I tell them a joke of their ears, We are ageless We have no days weeks or months No years decades of centuries We were born loving each other from afar Our meeting was just a destined fate from start. Red rose of the back rose, It's an amazing journey colouring the roads.
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Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
How old are we?
such hands as amongst what drowsy bolts of Summer --i can recall them hands as brittle soft as tough easy drunk uncoiling so firmly their thighs a flower between broke. (a bright naked flower a dull wilting flower) it snapped 19 at the little lake of its; there was a gorgeous sound and you and i and all the ****** nights, dayless splangling hung furiously through that tiny filament of your hips the very small death of clean.
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May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 5:59 AM UTC
Untitled