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Drunk poet Jul 2016
Ajoke, daughter of moremi,
Beauty is a predicament in your lineage,
Your beauty bring out star at night,
Stars even told the Wisemen about it.

The beauty that runs in your blood,
Mama kola makes a lot of profit at dawn,
When men gathered to drink and speak of
Your beauty.
Each making a bet to have you.


Ajoke, your ęwa(beauty)  is angelic,
Your tiny voice is mellific,
Your dimples is intoxicatic,
Your ostrich legs so charismatic.

But your beauty is delusive,
Think not that a derisive,
I must be Ilucinating!
Stop appearing in my dreams,
Come to my reality!
Alexander  K  Opicho
(Eldoret,Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)


Dear Beloved potential victim to my foul intentions,
How are you today and your family, I covet it most
I am a citizen of Sudan but currently staying in Burkina Faso.
My name is Miss Ngara Deng,24years old daughter of the richest Sudanese
My wealth in prankstery is spilling over the tumbler of truth,

We originated from Sudan the confused kingdom of penchant tribalism
I got your E-mail address/profile through my justifiable slyness
in the internet search from your country of prank victims,
In the national chamber of commercial fraudulence,
When I was searching for a good and trust worthy person
Who will be my friend  even I con him to the apex of my efforts,

And I believe that it is better we get to know each other
Better and trust each other so that I determine your degree of folly
Because I believe any good relationship depends on your callousness
Will only last if it is built on truth and real love of I frauding you,
My father Dr. Dominic Dim who gave birth to me
A universal queen of fraud an pranking
He was the former Minister for SPLA  contraband Affairs
And Special Adviser to President Salva Kiir in regard to tribalism,
As the main virtue of South Sudan.

My father Dr. Dominic Dim Deng, blessed be his name
And my mother including other top Military officers
And top government officials in this game of ours,
Had been on board when the plane crashed
On Friday May 02, 2008. May be Museven Knows
After the burial of my father, all pranks were there,
My uncles conspired and sold my father’s properties
To a Chinese expatriate and live nothing for me.

One faithful morning, gave a twist of fate;
I opened my father’s briefcase and found out the false documents,
Which he have deposited huge amount of fake money in one bank
In Burkina Faso with my name as the next of kin in prankster,
I traveled to Burkina Faso to withdraw the money
so that I can start a better prank life and take care of wiles.


On my arrival, full in arms as you know am a liar
The Branch manager of the Bank, a Burkinabe
Whom I met in person and desire he was my prey,
Told me that my father’s instruction, vicious ones
To the bank was the money is released to me ,
Only when I am married or present a ****** s trustee
Who will help me and invest the money conning guys overseas
I have chosen to contact you after my prayers and ploys.
I believe that you will not betray my trust.

But rather take me as your own sister in crime
Though you may wonder why I am so soon revealing myself
to you without knowing you to be good in pranking,
Well, I will say that my mind of a thief convinced me
That you are the true foolish person to steal from.

More so, I will like to disclose much to your folly
if you can help me to cheat the police  by hiding in your country
Because my uncle has threatened to counter prank me,
The amount is $8.4 Million and I have confirmed
From the bank in Burkina Faso that am only lying,
You will also help me to place the money in heavenly treasure
In a more profitable swashbuckling venture in your Country
However, you will help by recommending to me
A nice University in your country from when I get a diploma
In thieving and frauding,
So that I can complete my studies in this marketable field


it is my intention to dupe you properly
As you get trapped in my rackets;
The balance shall be my capital
In your illusive establishment
As soon as I receive your interest in helping me,
I will put things into action immediately
In the light of the above of the nonsense
I shall appreciate an urgent message from you
Indicating your ability not to sense a lie
and willingness to handle this transaction in foolish sincerity.

Please do keep this only to yourself as it is fortunes fool
You should contact with my prank email ID below;
missngarad@gmail.com
Sincerely yours,
Miss Ngara DENG
we can use poetry to fight cyber con men
LDuler Mar 2013
Why people feel the need or desire to
Listen to the radio
Or surround themselves with machines that whir and beep
Or white noise to fall asleep
Or go to concerts
Is beyond me
I don't understand why
People want noise all the time
They're committing a terrible crime!
They mutilate silence
Tarnish delicate laconism
And mangle quiet
Machines everywhere!
Machines and devices, noise and distraction from the essence of life
Tooting, blaring, screeching, whistling, crashing
Honking, booming cracking, grinding, and trilling!
We happily bask in this cacophony

So much noise that we tend to forget that
How truly precious real silence is-
A gold nugget in a long, tumultuous river.
Yet we don't want any of it, not even a sliver
Silence is that which comes nearest to expressing the ineffable
It's so pure and so true, so delectable
Silence is a true friend who never betrays
Whatever has happened to saying it all with a simple gaze?
Words are by no means proof of wisdom
Silence isn't ignorance or dullness of mind
Silence is refined
Silence is
A pause between birdsongs
The mournful song of lonely hearts
The sigh of a tree
The shift of the clouds
The obscure and perishing rhythm of forgotten thoughts
The throb of the summer sun
The timid streaming of tears down a child's cheek
The fall of a snowflake
The pulse of the veins on a frail white wrist
And a kiss between whispered promises

Babble is empty
And words, like wire
May seem solid
Yet they can be twisted to resemble anything-
Weak promises, false prayers, delusive prophecies
And can easily be broken, if one distorts them enough.

Silence is more eloquent than phrases
It is not nothing
It has a form, dimension, substance
A texture and quality of its own
So many people associate it with mystery, privacy and isolation
When really it reveals it all
Silence can be jealous; rough and small
It can be peaceful; blue and hazy
It can be tumultuous; confused and crazy
Silence can be loving; soft and surrounding
Or it can be spiteful; violent and pounding
Silence can chaste; reserved and shy
Or it can sensual, with a voluptuous sigh
Silence can be puzzled; blurry and nauseous
It can be disgusted; halting and cautious
Silence can be grieving; a falling apart
It can be horribly heavy; the weighing of unspoken secrets on a fragile heart
Silence can be anything
Agitated, insecure, submissive or authoritative
Giddy or gloomy, vicious or respectful
Silence contains it all
Every word, every language,
All the knowledge, all the memories, all the emotions
If you've ever watched a sunrise, or been in love, or spent a night home alone, or sat in grieving silence as someone held your hand
Then you know this

The silly young, the brash and impatient ones, always break the silence
With gossip and music and profanity and small talk
They always giggle, interrupt, argue and squawk
Constant conversations, words, motions, defense, offense, back and forth
Yet those who are comfortable with each other can sit without speaking
Because to love and be quiet is enough
To hold hands and not say a word is enough
Silence is the gift of the world that we've pushed aside
A precious gift wrapped in white that we've rudely denied
Silence is the highest form of thought
And it is by slowly developing this mute contemplation in us that we will,
Step by step,
With reflections, speculations, and musing
Be able to reach what is true about ourselves.
When we are quiet and timid
We sit silently and watch the world around us
We see things, we read things, we hear things that others don't, we keep quiet about them, and we understand.

I don't understand why people fear the hush
Perhaps people are afraid to surrender to the clear ****** of it
Maybe all these fools think that to keep quiet is to erase yourself
Maybe they associate silence with loss of life
Perhaps some of them know that listening to the silence can be painful
That it can reveal the pain of the world
So they cower and shy away from it

Yet look at what I've done
I'm just like the rest of them, aren't I?
I wrote and wrote, yet what do all these words mean?
How pretentious of me to think I could be one to put silence into words
Ode to Silence by Geneviève Pardoe Macchiarella is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Arabella May 2013
It's so

sad

to

watch you

love her.

Chasing
her,
as if
she
is the only dream
you ever had.

When I look into your eyes,

I find her name dancing

through your thoughts.


I wonder if she'll ever stop.


Wistful,

you wait.

for a

delusive

love.
still playing around with this. but I hope you enjoy~
VG E Bacungan Oct 2014
The world where I stood was a desert
thirsty for a pint of rain;
longing for a kiss that never came.
Not until you did.

Everything started with a droplet of your essence,
Out of nowhere. Unexpected.
YOU... yes you MANIFESTED.
Without notice, you took me by surprise.
A beautiful surprise I say.
For the first time in a while I felt,
my worries washed away by your presence.
Hot sand turned mud where then I lay.

In those moments I lost,
all anxieties brought by drought.
When through the years I thought
I'd never touch the rain I ought
to ardently pray for every night.
Imbued I was with your* "love".

clothes soaked. body wet. soul drunk.

your name the promise I mutter through the drizzle.
This body jived to the beat of a million sizzle.

Moments passed faster than it seemed.
I, taken away by lust of a parched soul.


I slurped. I gulped. I glugged.

as much as I could, never thinking of
what I would drink in the latter.
When the land runs dry;
when then again,
I'm deprived of water.

So then, what caught me by surprise,
left without a word... woah,
SURPRISE!
everything turned back the way it was;
an arid heart in a blink of an eye.

But what makes me wonder is this delusive sense,
of your cooling touch amidst this false pretense;


I smell–
Your scent stick to my chest like perfume odour.
My nostrils clogged with the aroma of your neck.
A waft that distorts the senses of this
consumed man.

Thoughts of you linger long after you are gone...
*Like the fragrance of rain that stays after the downpour.
A poem
for her.
or maybe
for myself.

#MovedOn
A stranger has come
To share my room in the house not right in the head,
                    A girl mad as birds

Bolting the night of the door with her arm her plume.
                    Strait in the mazed bed
She deludes the heaven-proof house with entering clouds

Yet she deludes with walking the nightmarish room,
                    At large as the dead,
Or rides the imagined oceans of the male wards.

                    She has come possessed
Who admits the delusive light through the bouncing wall,
                    Possessed by the skies

She sleeps in the narrow trough yet she walks the dust
                    Yet raves at her will
On the madhouse boards worn thin by my walking tears.

And taken by light in her arms at long and dear last
                    I may without fail
Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars.
"Hark! Lakshman! Hark, again that cry!
                 It is, — it is my husband's voice!
             Oh hasten, to his succour fly,
                 No more hast thou, dear friend, a choice.
             He calls on thee, perhaps his foes
                 Environ him on all sides round,
            That wail, — it means death's final throes!
                 Why standest thou, as magic-bound?


             "Is this a time for thought, — oh gird
               Thy bright sword on, and take thy bow!
           He heeds not, hears not any word,
               Evil hangs over us, I know!
           Swift in decision, prompt in deed,
               Brave unto rashness, can this be,
           The man to whom all looked at need?
               Is it my brother that I see!


           "Oh no, and I must run alone,
               For further here I cannot stay;
           Art thou transformed to blind dumb stone!
               Wherefore this impious, strange delay!
           That cry, — that cry, — it seems to ring
               Still in my ears, — I cannot bear
           Suspense; if help we fail to bring
               His death at least we both can share"


          "Oh calm thyself, Videhan Queen,
               No cause is there for any fear,
           Hast thou his prowess never seen?
               Wipe off for shame that dastard tear!
           What being of demonian birth
               Could ever brave his mighty arm?
           Is there a creature on earth
               That dares to work our hero harm?


           "The lion and the grisly bear
               Cower when they see his royal look,
           Sun-staring eagles of the air
               His glance of anger cannot brook,
           Pythons and cobras at his tread
               To their most secret coverts glide,
           Bowed to the dust each serpent head
               ***** before in hooded pride.


           "Rakshasas, Danavs, demons, ghosts,
               Acknowledge in their hearts his might,
           And slink to their remotest coasts,
               In terror at his very sight.
           Evil to him! Oh fear it not,
               Whatever foes against him rise!
           Banish for aye the foolish thought,
               And be thyself, — bold, great, and wise.


           "He call for help! Canst thou believe
               He like a child would shriek for aid
           Or pray for respite or reprieve —
               Not of such metal is he made!
           Delusive was that piercing cry, —
               Some trick of magic by the foe;
           He has a work, — he cannot die,
               Beseech me not from hence to go.


           For here beside thee, as a guard
               'Twas he commanded me to stay,
           And dangers with my life to ward
               If they should come across thy way.
           Send me not hence, for in this wood
               Bands scattered of the giants lurk,
           Who on their wrongs and vengeance brood,
               And wait the hour their will to work."


           "Oh shame! and canst thou make my weal
               A plea for lingering! Now I know
           What thou art, Lakshman! And I feel
               Far better were an open foe.
           Art thou a coward? I have seen
               Thy bearing in the battle-fray
           Where flew the death-fraught arrows keen,
               Else had I judged thee so today.


           "But then thy leader stood beside!
               Dazzles the cloud when shines the sun,
           Reft of his radiance, see it glide
               A shapeless mass of vapours dun;
           So of thy courage, — or if not,
               The matter is far darker dyed,
           What makes thee loth to leave this spot?
               Is there a motive thou wouldst hide?


           "He perishes — well, let him die!
               His wife henceforth shall be mine own!
           Can that thought deep imbedded lie
               Within thy heart's most secret zone!
           Search well and see! one brother takes
               His kingdom, — one would take his wife!
           A fair partition! — But it makes
               Me shudder, and abhor my life.


           "Art thou in secret league with those
               Who from his hope the kingdom rent?
           A spy from his ignoble foes
               To track him in his banishment?
           And wouldst thou at his death rejoice?
               I know thou wouldst, or sure ere now
           When first thou heardst that well known voice
               Thou shouldst have run to aid, I trow.


           "Learn this, — whatever comes may come,
               But I shall not survive my Love,
           Of all my thoughts here is the sum!
            Witness it gods in heaven above.
         If fire can burn, or water drown,
             I follow him: — choose what thou wilt
         Truth with its everlasting crown,
             Or falsehood, treachery, and guilt.


         "Remain here with a vain pretence
             Of shielding me from wrong and shame,
         Or go and die in his defence
             And leave behind a noble name.
         Choose what thou wilt, — I urge no more,
             My pathway lies before me clear,
         I did not know thy mind before,
             I know thee now, — and have no fear."


         She said and proudly from him turned, —
             Was this the gentle Sita? No.
         Flames from her eyes shot forth and burned,
             The tears therein had ceased to flow.
         "Hear me, O Queen, ere I depart,
             No longer can I bear thy words,
         They lacerate my inmost heart
             And torture me, like poisoned swords.


         "Have I deserved this at thine hand?
             Of lifelong loyalty and truth
         Is this the meed? I understand
             Thy feelings, Sita, and in sooth
         I blame thee not, — but thou mightst be
             Less rash in judgement, Look! I go,
         Little I care what comes to me
             Wert thou but safe, — God keep thee so!


         "In going hence I disregard
             The plainest orders of my chief,
         A deed for me, — a soldier, — hard
             And deeply painful, but thy grief
         And language, wild and wrong, allow
             No other course. Mine be the crime,
         And mine alone. — but oh, do thou
             Think better of me from this time.


         "Here with an arrow, lo, I trace
             A magic circle ere I leave,
         No evil thing within this space
             May come to harm thee or to grieve.
         Step not, for aught, across the line,
             Whatever thou mayst see or hear,
         So shalt thou balk the bad design
             Of every enemy I fear.


         "And now farewell! What thou hast said,
             Though it has broken quite my heart,
         So that I wish I were dead —
             I would before, O Queen, we part,
         Freely forgive, for well I know
             That grief and fear have made thee wild,
         We part as friends, — is it not so?"
             And speaking thus he sadly smiled.


         "And oh ye sylvan gods that dwell
             Among these dim and sombre shades,
         Whose voices in the breezes swell
             And blend with noises of cascades,
         Watch over Sita, whom alone
             I leave, and keep her safe fr
K Balachandran Jan 2015
And when the bell tolls, as expected, I imagine
an unconvincing ending and quick new beginning
fighting my instinct that tells again and again
it's just a nonsense we force ourselves to embrace
obeying an illogical prompt never once questioned
There is no full stop in time; even if you are being playful.
David Moule Jul 2010
BE free from the church and its impositions
its restrictions
contradictions
and ungodly superstitions
BE free from all dogmatic institutions
Patriarchal truths
are only partial solutions
BE free from the coat of protection
that they fashion
A one-size fit
that impedes expansion
BE free from the doctrine
that imposes separation
Brother versus brother
Nation versus nation
BE free from the teachings
that set us apart
That caters to the Ego
not to the heart
BE free from the darkness
that controls your mind
How can you see the light
if you're asleep or blind
BE free from the ‘Book’
and its static communication
A covert operation
in the ‘divine’ proclamation
BE free from hypocrisy
intolerance and vanity
The ‘ignis fatuus’ progenitor
of the world's insanity.
© VERSO - 3/6/96 (D.N.Moule)
James Jarrett Mar 2014
They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. The millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable--and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come.

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace-- but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!
Patrick Henry, better than coffee in the morning
'Tis about time I said goodbye;
to thyself-t'at is but full of deceit, and lies.
Ah, just yesterday, rainbows wert snared by thy eyes;
but soon t'eir soul flickered like a flame, and died.

Ah, thee, th' son of night, and th' beauty of day;
My love for thee was, indeed, more t'an what poems canst say.
Oh, but why didst thou, with a smile so sweet,
flirt with me, as last Monday we w'rt fated t' meet?
My love, thou should'a stayed behind;
if thou wanted me not; with all t'ose secrets
thy so dearly kept and cherished, in thy mind.
I am now th' one to blame;
I am like one infinite morning, whose innocence
led me to believe in th' foreign falsehood of fame.
Ah, as how my heart jumped about like a selfish swan
Whenst thy lips silenced mine; oh, all wert just a good sign!
But how couldst thou stomp away and leave me alone?
Thou bask now, in my seedless cries, raw tears, and scorn;
Thou art cruel, cruel, cruel! Oh-thou filled me with disgust!
Thou art like disdain, and its mean garden;
Yes, thou art a semblance of whose ungratefulness!
Ungrateful and smeared with greedy terror;
Sending sane souls and spines about running with tremor;
And in which t'ere are neither flowers, nor hills, nor mountains
Everything is glaring; everything is burnt-
and under a nightless sky, a pitiful; yet irregular sky,
With rage thou shalt destruct my lavender;
thou art now an enemy, but yesterday a fake lover!
Ah, canst I believe it not-how I first came to love thee,
whenst thou wert just but a soulless entity!
Oh, how stupid I was-yes, too credulous and insipid;
for falling for a mask so infamous, and putrid.
I am now turning away-hopefully I am still late not,
and towards a better lover my whole conscience canst afford.

Ah, thee, but at today's moonless dawn
I sprang from sleep whenst I rigidly dreamed of thee;
I had hoped t'at thy shadow would never show
But kept it venturing to stay t'ere and haunt me.
How I would mock things t'at are stubborn;
t'ese hath I vowed, so deeply and heartily-
ever since I first was born.
Thou art a wicked, wicked witch;
thou treated me like litter;
like I was but a gouty piece of filth.
Thou art bright not, like th' river,
but th' sinned soil and clawed greenness under;
thou art not th' glow thou used to be,
ah, neither art thou th' angel t'at spoke and joked with me.
Thou art mean, mean, mean;
thou art a mean man and creature altogether;
Thou wert once part of my breath;
but now even thinking of thee
shalt goodly fill me with dread, and images
of erotically defeated triumph;
and flavourless, ye' anonymous, death.
But even if thou wert to die, I would grieve not;
for thou art not worthy of any more of my tears;
instead I would raise my hands and sweetly thank our dear Lord;
for returning my pride; and destroying my wounded fears.

Thou shalt from now on-liveth in my mind not,
and in which, in t'is most dignified, though absurd, conscience-
I sweareth t'at thee canst no more rejoice;
for I prefer stopping our unfinished story short;
and I detest now, every bit of thy flesh,
much less th' delusive meanness of thy voice.
Thou art to me but a bad dream,
and thy presence is even less meaningless
t'an a lad's pleading ghost;
Thou art trapped in stillness, as thou may seem,
ah, and may thy sins lead thee only, in th' years
to come, to thy worst.
Thou art worthy not of t'is grand earth!
In a marred graveyard should thy now dwellest,
'fore ruining thyself more, and makest all thy sins 'ven worse.
Ah, thou who art not a being of neither th' West nor East;
as even in God's mind, thou should be th' least,
I dread thee as how His Majesty spurns a fiend;
thou art neither my lover, nor playmate, nor any friend.

I hope by t'is poem th' world shalt see;
how notorious and vicious thou hath been
to one sinless me.
I am just a writer, with t'is poem in my hand-
but despite-I am just a woman, a fragile, and sometimes
infantile; lover and friend.
A lover, to a man worthy of my love;
a loyal friend, to all fellows-thoughtful and honest;
With whom my poetic soul shalt live;
and with whose courage,
t'is loving breath shalt ever thrive, in my left years-
and ever continue to joke, gather, and laugh.
Anna Pavoncello Mar 2014
Everywhere I walk-everywhere I go;
the titles follow like aftershave.
They're not warm, they're not soft,
They're not enveloping,
They give a bland emotion to their matter.
       This is Big.
       These are People.
       They are Insignificant.
Titles follow everywhere.
like shadows to our frames.
1522

His little Hearse like Figure
Unto itself a Dirge
To a delusive Lilac
The vanity divulge
Of Industry and Morals
And every righteous thing
For the divine Perdition
Of Idleness and Spring—
1239

Risk is the Hair that holds the Tun
Seductive in the Air—
That Tun is hollow—but the Tun—
With Hundred Weights—to spare—

Too ponderous to suspect the snare
Espies that fickle chair
And seats itself to be let go
By that perfidious Hair—

The “foolish Tun” the Critics say—
While that delusive Hair
Persuasive as Perdition,
Decoys its Traveller.
Cecil Miller Jul 2015
In the forest, there grows a flower
That the night loves with starlit showers.
How it blossoms near the tree beneath the moon!
Its petals are a vibrant indentation
Which, with its beauty, betokens the wilderness.

Rapacious and beguiled
Become the seekers of the bloom.
Ravenous are they for its syrupy nector,
And greedy for its savory and intoxicating effect,
Which is delusive to those who would otherwise be able to reckon.
Its glamour incites a yearning
That, not sated, becomes a burning
Which leaves a hollow place where the logic used to be,
And tangles the chords of one's emotions.

Not everything that is enticing is worth the bill of fare,
Even if it thrives freely throughout the land.
I was bored, so I decided to write. 7/16/2015
Please, do not use my work to buy, sell, trade or fundraise for this or any other sight.
Allisen Jan 2014
I don't know why I hate myself so much.
How can I loath the body I was gifted,
Cry over the sincereness of my very own personality.
How can I tear down the height of my happiness,
Look myself in the delusive mirror just to accept it's biting lies.
How can I break this beastly habit?
The Noose Jan 2014
Bathed in vermilion anguish

Hollowing out the delusive notions

From the catacombs of the mind


Ensnared in the quagmire

Of disgruntlement

Pulling an endless string

From the throat.
Raven Feb 2017
My thoughts are dazed…
Claustrophobic and hazed.
I’m exhausted and unamazed,
Fatigueness of some kind, low from the natural high.
Thoughts in my mind are delusive and unkind.
Dizzy and feeling quite fizzy
Not in the mood for studying, excitement, and fun.
Sitting by my lonesome self just writing what I can process.
Head feels heavy, got me feeling a bit queasy
Uneasy
Zoned out and lost in my thoughts
Sun is out and the wind is harsh…
It’s skin prickling and dissatisfying.
My exhaustion is sickening.
Absolute death and no reason
No fret
But anguished in my enclosed mind
But no threat…

System overkill
Discredit and disregard
Explain but disagree and make it hard
Exhalation and permutation
Loss of existence and clouded perception

Obsessive minds and sniffed up lines
Excessive amounts and numbers you cannot even count.
Broken, ripped, torn, and outwardly worn.
A lost ghoul, selfish, and for more you mourn.
Poor and dead, not yourself, completely blacked out and unconscious in bed.

Overdosed on the ******’ pills, suicide attempts never work…
Let the meds pour…
Gone, so gone…
Just let the meds pour...
Uzee May 2013
harbouring virtuousity,  curious to express
exhibiting,  she firmly held the pen
to jot down the mystic emotion,
the exquisite dream
oblivious of the mounting stress
pouring
the dissipating words recklessly fading
confused up wit
unable to sought down, the oblivion of sleep

knew not what to indite
unable to contemplate the very dream
but thoughtfully only was such the fuddled sapidness
the psychic images ; a subtle dream

dreary eyes
thirstily awaited
till the very amnesia faded

for the sole muzzy feeling,  this the only manifest
suffice the unenviable question
whence crept the feeling?
whence the love aviate?
where rested the answer?

sudden diaphanous streak
stroke sorely to the pounding wit
paralyzing her for the moment being

the sudden egest
whatever the persistent burden
gone

for now
them thoughts voyaged operosely

beyond the abyssal pupil now dwelt
the glamorous face, snowy heavenly dress..  
the very words ; euphoric conversation
lasting gentle tepid touch
that had dourly crept and haunted
throughout the delusive night...

penned down
finally incurred
peace
Alin Jan 2015
NO!
I DON’T WANT MAGIC!
I CRY
HU HU HU
AI AI AI U U U
IT’S TOO MUCH
REALLY!

Sometimes  good enough
also
a slice of Toasted bread

Put also some
Peanut Butter
Cheese n Hot Sambal
and a pickle on top

Oh what a CRISPY NIBBLE
to enjoy then
Before the breeze -
After the rain

Maybe also an Apple?
And a Nut?

Sun shines Bright
on the ICY
New harvested snow
See me Touch ?

MMM
WHAT A BITE  WHAT A BITE

yes I like it

Gimme Physics
Satisfy my  pie-crust
make it Equally  
Robust

You know
My trajectory
is not that Bizarre or FAR
I NEED NO BALLISTICS
R UGETTN ME now
SLOWLY?

CRAZY?
MAYBE?

SUCH IS A
PROPELLIN NOZZULE
RIFILIN IN A BARREL

OH NO
not A JOKE
Really!  ... neither A BAD BLOOD
BUT ITS GETTIN HARD

Holding these GOLDEN TIES  
I MEAN
AHAHA

AM I  MEAN ?
hihihiooo

When it’s time to say  GOODBYE
or  When it’s time to say
There he GOES AGAIiiiiiN

WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE ANYWAY?

THE SAILING BOAT?
YEAH ?
I KNOW…
YEAH. SURE IT FALLS!
I MEAN
DOWN THE HORIZON?
OF COURSE

SURE I BELIEVE YOU
SURE THE WORLD IS STRAIGHT
SURE IT IS AS YOU SAY ME TRUE

BUT
MIRACLE MIRACLE
show me A MIRACLE
BUT
MAGIC O MAGIC
Show me A
UHM PUNCH OUCH!
SEE!
IT simply Blows US UP! (( AGAIN!

BEFORE U could HUNCH n PUNCH
BEFORE you would put
a DAMPER ON
and Your
Enchanting APPEARANCE inside
BEFORE I could RIDICULE You
yeah only by Yellin’ at you

STOP YOUR TOXIC YOLO N ****!

FASTEN IT WITH A FAKE LOCK

OH WHAT A LOSS OF FIGHT
OH WHAT a delusive JOKE YO

at least tie IT REAL TIGHT
because
LIARS LIE
LIKE A Burning EYE AIII!
N invent CRY ME A RIVER EYE

AUCH it's HOT ….I TOLD YOU!

BEAUTIFUL is ANY Nature once TRUE
Don’t WHINE -  what can YOU DO?
AT LEAST I LOVE YOU!

ITS NOT TOO BAD REALLY: Being a LIZARD
AND let it STAY THIS WAY as is
for a while
AS A SIGH FOR NOW

A SHY SIGH IN THE SKY ! 

SOUNDIN ALREADY SO BEAUTIFUL 

SHYNESS COMES FROM MY SIDE
SIGHNESS FROM YOURS 

Don't WORRY IT’S COOL-  WE’RE A TEAM
YOU JUST NEED TO MAKE IT SOUND A BIT GRUMPY

AND WE LET iT disappear THIS WAY
OH YEAH!
such is A SIGH IN THE SKY
OH YEAH
THE SHY N A SICKENIN CRYING SONG
OF YOU AND I
LIKE I LIKE I
LAI LAI LAI AI AI AI HU HU HU U U U
for inconsistent use of CaPS blame the tOOTHACHE! :D
HERE IS my SPOKEN VERSION OF THIS POETRY: take1 :D
https://soundcloud.com/dnalumuland/yo-i-saw-a-sailing-boat-in-the-sky
Rachel Sullivan Jun 2013
I happened to fall down a great big hole
And the dive into darkness shook my soul
The world then turned upside down
when I saw locked doors all around
I chased after a hopping bundle of white
searching for happiness and some light
Crying a pool of tears
How in the world did I get here?

Thats  when I met you and your smiling face
I thought I had finally found hope in this place
Your grin beamed like a crescent moon
So captivating I couldn't help but swoon
So cheeky, fun, and hypnotizing
I didn't know you were secretly criticizing
You told me which way to go
I can't believe I didn't know

I never thought that the nice boy,
would be made of smoke

You’re a liar, a Cheshire cat
I can't believe I ever trusted that
That devilish smile, and those big bright eyes
How could I not see through that disguise?

Should have listened to the wise words said
By a blue oracle whispering in my head

You tricked me, looks like I was used
But it doesn't matter as long as you're amused?
I feel like shrinking in my skin
at the thought of your incessant grin
I thought you were there for me
That you cared for me
But that was an act, a front, a lie
I Discovered a teaspoon of truth
and said goodbye

I'm sorry, baby, but you’re a pig
With deceitful eyes and smile that's big
You’re a red rose that's painted itself white
Later I knew something wasn't right
But I should have seen it right from the start
You're nothing but a beautiful but sour ****
Did you think I wouldn’t notice how distant you’ve become?
Well then,Dear, you're as stupid as tweedle dee and tweedle dum
I saw your game, your stack of cards
You led me to trust your delusive accords

You left me here, amongst the chaos and confusion
Sick from a potion I had to drink to believe your delusion
I'm the queen of a broken heart and all I see is red
If I had my way, it would be
**“Off with your head!”
Suhaib Tariq Aug 2014
I remember peace as it was,
imperfect and flawed but mine to keep.
Rainy days were greeted with awe,
nights were adorned with harmonious sleep.

I remember the sky as it was,
clouded and red but mine to keep.
Hosting the dreams of the millions below
a citadel for lovers dying to meet.

I remember the flowers as they were,
young and naive but mine to keep.
Blooming on a dead man's accord,
his widow, beside, eyeing her treats.

I remember smiles as they were,
corrupted and vile but mine to keep.
They seem much too busy now
aiding the faces in hiding their grief.

I remember freedom as it was,
constrained and limited but mine to keep.
Imprisoned in homes and imprisoned within self,
silence wages wars on my defying speech.

I remember faith as it was,
blind and delusive but mine to keep.
Lost to the times and the wars of men
that laughed at us, finding belief.
Onoma Dec 2015
In the guts of transparency
everything is looking in & out...
the mind is overwhelmed
by the onslaught.
Its delusive nature begins
to breathe upon the glass
of such transparency, for
proof of life.
Craving the crack of the whip possessing the flesh
Before it hits the air, the breath of the bound captive
Hearing in the silence of the caressing hand a touch
Pored out behind the shackles, the feathers, the rules
Trying to make sense of the frustration and delusive
Desire of the entangled ******* rough and intricate mesh
Taking off all misunderstanding, embracing your blush
A sort of rituals of carnal, Sir, Mistress, Save Our Souls.

Bound to love the feeling of expectancy in a dark room
Dealing with all traumas and successes bending a knee
Savoring the exquisite or frightful balance of pleasure
Muttering an ****** language known by all yet dreaded

A scene in which your persona stages a fantasy
With a consenting partner or in your mind, it is easy
There is no self-help book for this topic, it all takes place
In your body and your heart, you decide if you keep pace
Power plays challenge your equilibrium, your lust
Whether you believe in a prophet or in flesh and dust
The beginning is near and she carries all your hidden rites
If only you would disrobe and lie down in many of your nights.

Lyon, July 28, 2017
11:04 pm
A discussion on ****
JK Cabresos Oct 2011
My weeks have been fluctuated since you were gone,
delusive questions are still thirsty for real answers.
My cries are prolonged beyond
these sweetest smiles,
and my heart beats for no one, like it never had.

The days turned cold because my arms are alone;
nothing but only you, can make me less forlorn.
I showed you diff'rent love, so unrequited
thus, 'tis my fault:
mistakes are undressed; I am lost.

'Twas just because we're becoming strangers again,
that your absence is taking me further with this pain.
I don't know how to perish sadness;
it already perished me:
and all I can do is to chase butterflies
on the isolated rain.

Truth was void, and I hope you understand,
that ev'ryone of us will be leaving from this land:
I never told you about my situation;
but belive me, my life is defined by loving you,
more than else could ever do.

May you will be moving on
because I will never be back here anymore;
and as you read this letter;
save your tears for tommorow.
My life was a journey, and you left me
along the diff'cult roads;
our love we conquered, was against all odds.

The door was closed; 'tis all set and done,
our mem'ries will be withered anyway on the ground.
and as you read this letter;
save my love for last.
Sorry and goodbye, are the best words to utter,
now that I'm already dead;
well, now that you already know what happened.
The rain was over.
© 2011
I am clearly just completely mental,
Just delusive,
Just outcast from society,
Just me;

I'm the the quiet girl
Who you don't ever hear speak,
Looking scared of the world,
Alone in every corner that she's been to.
Random Nov 2012
Hello Stranger

She was smiling at me while turning the pages of the book
There she was on the bench frowning
And then while making the mundane choices
They were all there, she is still here

Huddled up inside me, jostling for space
Faceless and nameless, they grew
Disjointed and disconnected
Rearing their heads
Dominating, struggling and then cajoling and comforting

In their world, madness is unreal and sanity delusive
Pain is surreal, so is existence
Happiness, mythical and sadness an unwelcome stranger

They are hostages of their essence
Enjoying the power struggle
Busy, Floating around in chaos
Sweating in mundane
Waltzing on the void

My, happy children of mundane
For them, Negotiating confusion is survival
Blocking the deafening noise of history, winning

Buried in the hackneyed beauty of life
With each for the other

In this crowd
Their aches are still trace less
Pains don't leave any mark
Tears are hollow and screams silent

Suffocating in a teeming crowd of self
Their search for one other,
Just Any other, continues

This is the beauty of condemnation
That the teeming crowd within fondly calls Life.
Markus Russin Jul 2018
deeds eviscerated
/ clawing weakness
sloppy cuts /
willpower destructive
present featureless

thoughts enunciated
/ piercing sharpness
sloppy cuts /
likelihood delusive
future unresolved

feelings elongated
/ lasting bleakness
sloppy cuts /
sanity depleted
memories absurd
wordvango Jun 2014
A boy inside an old man
rides a coaster rolling
heart and old bones
partitioned jointly
mutually delusive
                 a young squire
unlearned boastful
                 ancient philosopher
cobwebbed naivete
revolutionary
a Freudian absurdity.
Crimsyy Jan 2017
Vinyl Chloride

I will never believe
in you again,
There is harm in
trusting a delusive
person like you;
Your damage replays,
others can see the
debris from your mistakes;
if only I were made of bricks,
then maybe, you
wouldn't weigh as much,
but because I'm
not made of bricks,
I'm
vulnerable,*
starring tired flesh
and equally tired heart.
Maddie Bukowsky Jun 2012
Maybe someday we'll be together,
when you're mine I know I'll sleep better.
It may be difficult, the challenge we face,
but we're okay because of God's grace.
We'll keep fighting, we'll smile not frown,
the world is against us but we won't back down.
Lately I can't separate fiction from fact,
how will I walk away with my pride intact?
Faking a smile is my personal victory,
but my delusive manner still makes me a mystery.
I'm sorry if I'm frustrating and confused,
I'm not quick to trust, I've been too abused.
The timing is off, we're not in our right minds,
but there's something in you I never thought I'd find.
I know right now we're stuck in stormy weather,
so sleep, and maybe someday we'll be together.
I caress my words, letting them gush as I go
Farther inside my mind. Willing to find the evidence
Why would I be afraid to sink so low
Until a garden that gathers my young existence

Those hills which guarded the painful spike
Preventing it from striking at full force?
I now know what the blow feels like
No longer protected, this is a wound I endorse.

The veiled and shy fair maiden said her name
Under the golden worlds of Victor Hugo, his fame
Crowned me with a genuine jewelry
Coloring my mind with the tears of Poetry.

I knocked on her gates at night
Looking for some of her pure light
Gently scratching the golden necklace
Hoping to unveil her virginal face...

She let me in and opened her palace
Which was so fascinating I could not keep pace
She was noble, her neck exhaled the fine fragrance
Of an infinite and concealed romance

Who would have not fallen for such a beauty?
Her sighs were enough to tease the eternity
Long as she locked me in her love I lived
But deep inside I knew my heart was cleaved.

For my mind adored her, studied her slender secrets
Never was it trapped by bitter regrets
It worshiped her and long as she would please it
It despised my broken heart that begged it to quit,

This delusive reality that tempted my core.
Reluctantly I cursed my mind offering her a last kiss
Being aware it would never repel her bliss
Sometimes, I still hear her rattle, “Can I get an encore?"

I watched my words whine in the distance
Trying to escape to admire her dance
I know that some of them will never forgive me
Her desires defiantly never listened to me!

I had to tear the treasures from her temples
Her blood as stains, symbols of our struggles
While my mind and heart were at war
And she still binds them so far...

I left her luminous palace, left alone
My mind called her name: "Poetry!" But gone
Was the veiled and fair maiden
Buried, banished and loved in her den.

I shed a tear of shame and satisfaction
I had not given in to my addiction
She called back in the loneliest night
But she was out of her mind and I, out of sight!

Nevertheless, I cried I was a damsel in distress
The flow of my dismay ignored by the lioness
When a gentle hand skimmed my spine I shivered
A voice came to my ears my heart had never heard!

While Poetry had not uttered a single song
This touch soothed my soul all night long
I could finally grasp something mystical
Something so sweet, this miracle became lyrical.

I averted my eyes from discovering whoever was speaking
But I sensed his blessing must have come from a king
He pointed at my jewelry and said: "Give me this flower
Otherwise it is soon going to silently wither."

I told him what I had never described to Poetry
How Death sounded like weaving her torn tapestry
With the souls of the ****** and their last breaths
Looking at her grin when she cleaned them in her cold baths.

I told him about my first love and he knew why
It ended with a faded rose offered to Wry
He said he would protect my untouched fleur de lis
If I wanted to use his language for my release...

He took me in his arms and spoke while I repeated
The words and feelings his lips formed as instructed
"Why would have the maiden Poetry sung to you when
You already communicated with her with a pen?

French is your mother tongue but your heart longed for more
Hearing it over and over your heart became sore
Of the sounds and images you wanted the spell
Of unknown mages but you cannot deny for her you fell


Now, mine is English and we both know
That albeit in the beginning we took it slow
Your heart hopes and yearns for my lips
For my taste and touch you drink in sweet sips

While your mind mumbles it misses its mistress
Tell it for now you are my damsel in distress
My tongue disarms you in the strongest embrace
But please, of the unveiled maiden, keep trace!

My name is hers, and if you would like
I can relieve you of the pain of the spike
Because you trusted me and bared your marred back
I will gift you my passion and will never take it back!"

And as I am recalling his gentle touch I ascertain
That he is staying by my side, washing away the stain,
He cannot completely remove though, for if he does
I will forget the bashful sound of Poetry's buzz.



May 5,2014
Lyon, France
D’une infinie et cachée romance

Je caresse mes mots, les laissant jaillir en chemin
Vers la profondeur de mon esprit. Voulant trouver la preuve
Pourquoi devrais-je craindre de tomber si bas
Dans un jardin rassemblant ma jeune existence

Ces collines ont gardé les lances douloureuses
Les empêchant de m’être délivrées de plein fouet ?
Je sais maintenant ce que le coup porté fait
Je ne suis plus protégée, je prends la blessure sur moi.

La voilée et belle vierge donna son nom
Sous les mondes dorés de Victor Hugo, sa renommée
Me couronna avec de vraies pierreries
Colorant mon esprit avec les pleurs de Poésie.

J’ai frappé à sa porte la nuit
Recherchant un éclat de sa pureté qui luit
Grattant doucement le collier doré
Sa coiffe virginale désirant dévoiler…

Elle me laissa entrer, m’ouvrant les portes de son palais
Qui était si impressionnant je ne tenais pas le rythme
Elle était noble, son cou inondé d’un fin parfum
D’une infinie et cachée romance.

Qui aurait résisté pareille beauté ?
Ces soupirs suffisaient à taquiner l’éternité
Aussi longtemps qu’elle m’enferma dans son amour je vis
Mais au plus profond de moi, je sentais mon coeur se fendre…

Car mon esprit l’adorait, étudiait ses secrets sveltes
Et ne fut jamais des regrets amers prisonnier
Il l’adulait, et aussi longtemps qu’elle continuait de lui plaire
Il méprisait mon coeur brisé qui le supplia de quitter,

Cette réalité décevante qui me charmait au plus profond.
Réticente, je maudis mon esprit lui donnant un dernier baiser
Sachant bien qu’il n’éloignera jamais sa béatitude
Je l’entends encore parfois, me dire, traînante, ‘’Donne m’en plus !’’

J’ai observé mes mots gémir au ****
Essayant de s’enfuir pour admirer sa danse
Je sais que certains d’entre eux ne me pardonneront jamais
Ses désirs, sur un ton de défi ne m’ont jamais écouté !

J’ai du déchirer les trésors de ses temples
Son sang, tâches de nos combats
Pendant que mon esprit était en guerre contre mon corps
Et à ce jour, elle les lie toujours…

J’ai déserté son palais lumineux, seule
Mon esprit la héla: “Poésie ! ‘’ Mais ****
Etait la voilée et belle vierge
Enterrée, bannie et aimée dans son repaire.

J’ai versé une larme de honte et de satisfaction
Je n’ai pas laissé entrer mon addiction
Elle me rappela dans la plus solitaire des nuits
Mais j’étais hors de portée, elle hors de mon esprit !

Cependant, j’ai crié au secours
Le flux de mon désarroi ignoré par la lionne
Quand une douce main effleura mon épine dorsale, j’eus un sursaut
Une voix atteint mes sens jamais entendue par mon coeur !

Alors que Poésie n’avait jamais prononcé le moindre mot
Ce toucher apaisa mon âme jusqu’au point du jour
Je pouvais enfin saisir quelque chose de mystique
Quelque chose de si doux, le miracle en devint lyrique

J’interdis à mes yeux de découvrir qui parlait
Mais senti que sa bénédiction devait venir d’un roi
Il désigna mes pierreries et dit: “Donne-moi cette fleur
Sinon elle va bientôt faner dans l’oubli.’’

Je lui ai écris ce que je n’ai jamais pu décrire à Poésie
A quoi ressemblait la Mort cousant ses tapisseries
Avec les âmes des damnés et leurs derniers soupirs
Regardant son sourire, les lavant dans ses bains froids.

Je lui ai parlé de mon premier amour et il sut
Pourquoi il se termina avec une rose offerte à l’ironie
Il promit de protéger mon intacte fleur de lys
Si j’acceptais d’utiliser sa langue pour être libre…

Il me prit dans ses bras, je répétais
Les mots et sensations que ses lèvres formaient, comme demandé
- Pourquoi Poésie aurait-elle chanté pour toi quand
Tu lui parlais déjà avec une plume ?

Le français est ta langue maternelle mais ton coeur en voulut plus
L’entendant encore et encore, il en devint las
Des sons et des images tu voulais le sort
De mages inconnus, mais tu ne peux nier tu es tombée pour elle

Mais la mienne est l’anglais et nous savons tous deux
Que même si au début nous sommes allés pas à pas
Ton coeur espère et envie mes lèvres
Parce que tu bois mon goût et toucher en de douces gorgées

Alors que ton esprit bredouille que sa maîtresse lui manque
Dis lui que pour l’instant tu es ma princesse à secourir
Ma langue te désarme dans la plus puissante des embrassades
Mais je t’en prie, de la vierge voilée, ne perds pas trace !

Mon nom est sien et si tu le souhaites
Je peux t’alléger de la douleur des lances
Parce que tu me fis confiance et dénuda ton dos meurtri
Je te donnerai ma passion et jamais ne la reprendrais.’’

Alors que je ramène à moi son tendre toucher j’établis
Qu’il reste à mes côtés, blanchissant les tâches
Qu’il ne peut pas complètement enlever car s’il le fait
J’oublierai le pudique murmure de Poésie.

5 Mai 2014, Lyon, France
Traduit le 8 Juillet 2015
Devika S Apr 2019
It is 6:45 am; weary eyes stare into a wall – unfocused and aimless
Each blink heavy; every breath filled with void
Dodder down the passage, meeting folk who couldn’t care less
Hark to their pleas of ‘Keep hope!’ and Alas! Thou art decoyed

Hope will aye usher in a new world, sure
Of bluer skies, greener lawns, and merrier smiles
The perfect silver lining to rose-tinted eyes pure
And stay there thou shalt, yearning for golden times

It will deflate one day – the delusive scheme called ‘Hope’
Dreams now shrapnel, will cut through tenderness of thy being
Holding heart wrecks, a scathed soul will mope
Albeit thy life be torn asunder, my dearest, bypass the hope swing
Becca Feb 2014
false
fAlse
FALSEfalsefalse
it is all FALSE
what i felt for you
you know it wasn't real
i KNOW it wasn't
yet all i can do is hold onto it
false love
false hopes
false presence
needed to save me
delusive little girl
2. Anger
© Becca 2014
Yue Wang Yitkbel Nov 2019
Chorus:

In Spring, from my poems, flowers spring
In Summer, a sum of everything green
In Autumn, foliage melancholically falls
In Winter,  my wintry mind gradually thaws

I. Spring:

Always one with nature
The Truth, my mind follows
A wave of pastel colors, returning swallows
Peck the hedges with petals of my soul
Blue and shattered, into the poetry it goes
What is without, escapes, imprints on the folds
Of time and space, as the stream of consciousness flows
Till, without me purposefully noticing
It captures within my thoughts an eternal Spring
And remains
Subtly felt but
Unseen

!

In Spring, from my poems, flowers spring
In Summer, a sum of everything green
In Autumn, foliage melancholically falls
In Winter,  my wintry mind gradually thaws

The Poet's Dream Follows the Season's Calls:

When the world exterior is abundant with
Life and the breathing, palpitating all
I capture in my mind, thoughts and words
With wonders and troubles
Of the nature
Without

When the world exterior crumbles and falls
Hidden and blanketed, asleep by the winter's call
The opening beyond Plato's cave gradually thaws
I am suddenly privy and drawn
To the nature
Within

II. Summer:

Always one with nature
The Truth, my mind follows
Between the boulders of lichens
Upon the emerald streams
Floats the vessel of my soul
Gathering seagrass and pollocks, it goes
What is within, the nature time briefly holds
Is now words of mine, to be told
Before the grass fields are eclipsed by the gold
It captures my thoughts evergreen
And remains
Brilliant with eternal warmth
Read and felt yet
Unseen

!

In Spring, from my poems, flowers spring
In Summer, a sum of everything green
In Autumn, foliage melancholically falls
In Winter,  my wintry mind gradually thaws

III. Autumn:

Always one with nature
The Truth, my mind follows
A twilight dance of leaves and boughs
First it blushes, ruddy, timid but bold
Then, it undresses, melancholy, bare in its fallen maple soul
A chilling gale gloats, pallid night wallows
In the anticipation of the impending revelation
What is without, dreaming its withering dreams,
Is now traversing through the wilting wintry plain
Soon to reach the delusive emptiness above
The hidden valley of invisible plenty
And be captured by my thoughts, reason and faith in harmony
With its dazzling orange and red, cerulean velvet behind emerald fringes
Forever vivid
In my poetry, to remain
Deeply felt, though
Unseen

!

In Spring, from my poems, flowers spring
In Summer, a sum of everything green
In Autumn, foliage melancholically falls
In Winter,  my wintry mind gradually thaws

IV. Winter:

Always one with nature
The Truth, my mind follows
The snow covered barren streets
A tattered overcoat suddenly greets
In a moment, by it I was brought to a place
BLOOMING with intrigue, I navigated this maze
And found the GREEN hedge of will and fate
Rich with HARVEST fruits of reason and faith
Like the SNOWFALL, that steals all
I became a glutton of light, in spite of the shadow wall
What is within, bursts from my mind's seams
And overflows
Not into the nature beyond, without
But nature of my mind and dreams within
And is captured by my words
Mirrored from my thoughts
In my poetry, it remains
Enlightened by and enlightening
All who seek and think, every being
With truth evidently felt
However
Unseen

Conclusion:

The poet of autumn, summer, and spring
To the exterior objective nature sings
The poet of winter, withered and plain
From the interior subjective nature, essence springs

The seasoned poet blossoms regardless
Whenever, wherever, timeless
Among
Fleeting fields of earthly gold
Or eternal pastures of souls
The Seasoned Poet Reaps Truth with His Soul
By: Yitkbel Yue Xing ****
Date of completion: Friday, November 15, 2019 1:38 AM
Started sometime after/around 10:00 PM Thursday, November 14, 2019
Suhani Maui Feb 2015
Ice
lust is just love that dies
we tend to want things that flood our eyes
our hurt is just a price we pay
looking at the moon and wishing for day
in an abyss of sweet nothings we fall deep
sacrificing oxygen and sleep
for a mere glimpse of what love could be

things aren't so tender when they end
just bitter unseasoned and bland
a heap of limbs at war with each other
lost souls looking to discover
searching for love and a source of heat
the vicious cycle of hatred and deceit
turmoil boils and wrath will grow
but the fire extinguished long ago

when the mind realizes it's been famished
not a soul in the world cared to scan it
of feelings or memories or wants
or opinions or strengths or thoughts

the enemy, loneliness, born
from lack of someone to adorn
a naive love disguised as scorn
from its battered scalp grow horns

an angel in disguise it became
call it cold.. frigid.. inane..

fallen angel beseech the stars above
for the slightest symbol of love
and to no avail, no answer
her kisses could create no dammer

she dared not bind to another
for the sake of being smothered
with false ardor and affection
her ice as her protection
to shield her ***** from the swelter
that asked of no one near to help her

the delusive words of many have tried
the only thing saving her was her spirit that died
this barrier tall, affirmative with action
hurt anyone near it with ample satisfaction
this story is about my love life. im really struggling to let people in. it's a reality ive decided to face because i have been long overdue for a reality check.
Irina BBota Nov 2017
No, I'm not a poet.
I'm just an interpreter of tales in which tears are drops of longing ...
Tales, in which I hear through my ears
echoes of an invisible and indivisible world ...
I sometimes like to pour myself a little red
and sweet wine of the silence cup,
the inner silence is erupting from me,
which seems to me to be a deaf-mute dispute between heart and reason ...

No, I'm not a poet.
Only words are fighting against me,
but still, I feel my heart is lifting in their arms,
with the same intensity as at the beginning...
The letters in my words do not need arguments,
they just want to free themselves,
to touch souls more and more, joining in verses,
their destinies being knotted with rhymes ...


No, I'm not a poet.
I'm just a human beeing who, for a few moments,
has a breath of inspiration,
swallowing with greed the air from the room
where I lay down my silence, my love, my longing,
trying to transform words into a vibrant power, almost tangible.
Sometimes I use words with a killing flesh of attraction,
like a masterful crowning of the letters that take hold of my pen...
and sometimes with a gentle, sweet glance,
whispering voluptuously, making my rhymes fall on their knees ...


No, I'm not a poet.
I just measure the universe with a hungry, critically eye-catching curiosity,
while the aroma of my coffee is flowing in the air,
escaping from the espresso,
mysteriously and dazzling...
I just caress the words on the pavements of the lyrics
peeled by the rains of the heart where the letters are sad and lonely...

Now I retire with a slight bow,
as an unspoken satisfaction, in front of all those who read me,
in front of the ones you know me...
A delusive lust to write a few lyrics has taken me by surprise...
maybe about truth, maybe about numb dreams,
maybe about the cure of lost hearts... which is love!
K Eaglechild Feb 2018
Tonight I lack the strength to even move.
Delusive ropes entwined with my limbs
And I’m bound against my crinkled bedspread;
like a deer on the hood of a truck;
(You’re the hunter and I was the prey).
I’m addicted to you.
I cannot help but let—
My tears slip from my bloodshot eyes and
streams down into my fractured heart
Filling
The
Familiar
Void
Inside me;

The place you once use to be.
Sour Patched Kid Oct 2015
Can you capture my pain
with your photographic heart?

Can you whisper my name
through a telegraph or card?

The pictures I cut, I kept.
The pocket I thumb, you left.

Your voice is like a train whistle
Coercing me towards delusive home
A siren by the aisle
Whose lulling call is deafening to my ache.

In dreams I hear nothing
In dreams I hear only your name.

Won't you bide the waves?

— The End —