448

This was a Poet—It is That
Distills amazing sense
From ordinary Meanings—
And Attar so immense

From the familiar species
That perished by the Door—
We wonder it was not Ourselves
Arrested it—before—

Of Pictures, the Discloser—
The Poet—it is He—
Entitles Us—by Contrast—
To ceaseless Poverty—

Of portion—so unconscious—
The Robbing—could not harm—
Himself—to Him—a Fortune—
Exterior—to Time—

Nerves a twitching under silent anticipation
Been chosen to speak in quiet constant contemplation
Out of nowhere, here I am on the 11th path of Bala presentation
The equation of this fun situation, got me dreaming through the pipe of this freedom nation
I love the thought of me on a station
Or even on a page rather than in a cold cage of their creation
The courts are deceiving, they’ve got us believing that the way it is, is just the way it is
I’m more than a number on a indoctrinate discloser.
I’m a talented pure potentially grounded, loving creature

Hating the time difference as usual
Usually just
Un using things
Not really thinking about importance and
Disproving what's changed
It's strange
It's deranged
Intangible
or is
Nothing the same
still I'm grateful
Anything with your name is
Delicious it's
Served at my table
It burns holes in my grace like
We're so unattainable
But I'm so
righteously grateful
for every single word being tasted
like maple
Like syrup
I wanna pour you up
and out
sweet substance
Cut you up with my fork
you disturb meals like
you've been in my mouth
With
Forgets and what torments
everything from lint to fabric
I might wear you but
you, you're still absent
and I'm inadequate
I'm chasing dreams of your necklines
I'd like to relate the responsibility of trying to describe your face
But that's impossible
You're so gorgeous it's like forcing everyone to burn holes inside of trouble
It's like trying to relate these things publicly
try and explain what's important
When all i want is to try to say you're important to me

But you won't hear it
You're too young so you
Do what you want and I
Just lay down
Bite my tongue & I
Retry to say words that might strike you
Instead
Pretend my mouth might
Bite into your neck
That you might let me
Kiss all of the skin
stretching from your head to your knee caps
Make you relapse from my lap
to your shoulders
We are holy
I am yours, girl
You no longer need that discloser
& if you'd decide to be mine
I'll have you wake up adored
and I'll hold every single word.
and no matter what goes on in this world
I just want to rock yours  
and anyway
hey;
We might be worlds away
but i'm not use to being stopped

Hush my heart, tell them nothing
I am just a shadow in the wind
do not let them know
do not disclose

I am still covered with sand
and words I speak they would never understand
his golden words I keep close to me
just for the glorious chosen to see

My discloser my ghost writing
word of good and evil with lightening
this is the paradox of me
a toy of God, ghost writing


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris

© 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=fvwp&NR;=1&v;=mhcfUrG5fzY

Inside the building
when a fire alarm knocks on our earlobes,
many descend their pathways to remaining pieces of life -
But some disclose past secrets inside the drawers

When the eyes of sin and guilt meet,
the growling guilt of a discloser
will chase after the two-eyed witness,
neglecting the past of a camaraderie

The disclosure of an enclosure that
leads to
the enclosure of a disclosure -
Isn’t this an infinite cycle of mess?

Until the emergency stairs become rustic
and the orange-gleaming light comes nearby,
we will wait
to see the sunshine as our long-lasting companion