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Peanut Nov 2015
And there it lies...
A face in the shade...
Fragments of a soul...
Staring beneath thy flesh...
A disenchanting glance...
With a playful stride...
As I look upon thee...
I can hear her whisper...
"Can I keep you?" she said...
I smile and replied...
"*******, I know your face"
Traveler Mar 2018
Imagine the illogical
A common sense that lacks
Parasitic phenomenon
Clinging to ones back
Involuntary commitment
To a shadow haunted state
Just behind the unconsciousness
  Unable to feel safe

I hate to sleep alone
When one eyes opened wide
When the shadows go a swirling
Up the walls and down my spine
But I've felt too many things
In the journey of my soul
I'll take them to the grave
When the shadows lay me low
..................................................
All those children from war torn worlds
Will suffer PTSD much worse than I do.
I can't imagine their hell.

Traveler Tim
William H L Jan 2013
Time is the ruin of humankind's love for all. Nothing shall be loved long after its gone, as unfeigned too which it was in its lively form. Humans are but ghoulish creatures; to whom nothing is rightfully sacred. Humankind should be as pious to life as most are to their gods they claim had made all in his image. They try to make us believe with their disenchanting tales of greatness that you hear of as a naïf adolescent. As society crumbles to the sound of our own beating drum, another builds up of mindless drones that feel no pity towards anyone. There is no one to accuse but ourselves In this spiral of disillusion. As time ventures forward into the endless span of time, our morality lessens, as do our feelings towards what we should cherish.
Katie Mac Oct 2013
i always thought poetry
happened as life
chaffed you over
and over
until it rubbed holes in
the fiber of you
and almost without even knowing it
you leaked your soul in lines.
i thought experience was beautiful
but its only disenchanting.

i think a cynic is such an ugly thing
and i think myself the ugliest of all.
i'm always wanting
always falling into a trope of misery;
i thought i was better than that,
i thought i was wise.
i can't hide my sensitivity or shiny pinpricks of hurt
catching the light.
i thought poetry dripped like faucet water
like a garden hose.
i suppose i've learned that poetry
is like pulling your worst fears
from your stomach where they thrive in acid dark,
and pushing them out through your mouth.

it's word-poisoning.
it's the ugliest parts,
it's vestigial tenderness
and i'm bruised
yellow black blue
purple red.
i've been living in the
tortured safety of my own head
and poetry is my writing on the wall
scratched into the sides of my skull.
it doesn't matter what i say
because i'll probably
live there till i die
but at least i'll have this graffiti,
this watery poetry sloshing like
brine in a jar.
what an ugly cynic i've become.
vega Feb 2018
an undulating reverie
hangs heavy in the silence
past canyons abundant with sunlight
and dreams made out of cotton

there, beyond the intoxicating haze,
you stood.

my lips uttered no words
that the universe could decipher
but the midnight tide understood
what i truly meant

now, if only you could, ma chérie

but the scrupulous colloquy is bound to break
and the stratosphere rewinds again
past divine oculists and obstinate facsimiles
and beyond the desolate valleys
where no sunshine dares to embark

and what’s left in the end
at the very edge of such a disenchanting,
morose fantasy

is you, and me,
and an undulating reverie.
The Apocalypse is unleashed in the contiguity of Patmia, seeing the two antlers that protruded from his forehead emerge from the front of Moshe, shining on the Aegean Sea, and submerging to great depth. The circles on the sun were importuned with dissimilar spherical forms between the same axis of the shank that united it on the matron, who was dependent on the target. So when leaving the Water the Leviathan could not resist the attacks of the antlers, Wonthelimar appeared with his Kératas similar to that of Moshe as he was hanging with the ibics rings of him. The stratagem was to hinder the invasion of the Persians who were already on their way, just as they yearned for the work of Saint John the Apostle to ****** him from Patmian land in the concelebration of the child Messiah. The need arose to warn Vernarth that he was already in the Bay of Skalá, and it would allow him to bend his efforts. and to be more prepared with the terrifying scenes that the idolaters of Darius III intended, knowing that the force of Leviathan had been fused with them.

There were countless ships of Darius III, resurrected by this incoherent feat when the reasoning for the tasks they brought by taking revenge against Vernarth and Alexander the Great, who until now were with their demiurges reviewing the astrology of the twelve tribes that hung from the constellation that was it posed in the aquarium house, very extensive covering the hazy night before the Battle of Patmia, under the submitology that could be a spectroscopic binary. Where the light Zohar would carry the seven veils of the night to shine them in the spells that Vernarth and Alexander the Great conceived praying together with Saint John the Apostle, from where Orion also lined up towards the emotionality of the Animalia with this affront, disenchanting with all the crudeness of the pagan rites exercised by the Persians to avoid wandering in Patmian land, adverse to what they could not exercise in Arbela. There were seven hours of waiting which was equivalent to seven minutes in the decision-making process to rob the aggressors by assault. Considering it from the constellation of the Dragon or twelve tribes that were programmed with Vernarth in the twentieth of Aquarius, for later in the late one. The numerical value will be 4,561,092, which is the value of the gestation numeral of this retaliation when the apocalypse began in this celestial military grievance between two states. Vernarth created the 38 chapters up to this instance of 4,561,092, the sum of all the numbers indicated 27 from 4 to 2, making the circular from 4 to 2 and vice versa, restarting at zero which would be 24 being the circular of 42 of the origin of the lid in Patmia, which would lead to the illumination of the heavens 24 times 42 = 1,008 until the prophecy of Alikantus of this work, on page 108, indicating 24 x 37 = 888, representing the triplicity of the infinite omega-three times vertical in the sails of Hestia:

Prophecy VII -. "Second, Alikanto Aion, Quantum"

"Kalymnos, and his golden tetra steed Alikanto, were grazing under the metallic moon ...
he walked in his quantum ..., with his golden legs ..., in the four golden domes he was a super host being in Apoika Andros next to the villagers, commemorating the comparsas and adventures…, Heraklion next period, anniversary celebrant, bearing progeny of Kanti Cretan, with nearby cycles of the sacred fire, in the domestic and private environment of his zeal ... a hidden cult funeral ..., streets in a family home with sacred fertile women ..., pregnant totalized **** ... the longevity of productive and harvests ..., family Apoika
and next successor belligerence ..., in his funerary plexus ...
cultured predecessor ..., readable treaty and imprecation of law, subject and religion in a domestic scene, in a family civic servant ceremony.

Goddess Hestia austere, head with eight dressed sacred candles;
Olympus lacking without gods ..., the only embargo of Goddesses!
Female Hestia Domestic goddess, female stench with an oval to ovulate ...
Pritaneo, decree with the axis of political harvests ..., exchange grains to be mintedMonetary bag of Athens ... Pritaneus rising ford, rising ford ...Aion ... hesitant dart in the raid of eternity,
Perpetual Aion Alikanto ... Speak with both hands
synchronized and the tongue bent ...
stutters and swallows saliva, in six sinuses,
full of sparkling foam ..., Internal voice saying with her saying ...
what makes sense to feel and what does not turn off ...
sleeping voices in the poison of love igniting
intra-Vernarth love ..., billing the poisonous holy blood
in the methodical coupled time ..., Gaugamela with his bronze leg,
of a lost leader ... of a Gained leader!

If I had to run to rewrite retro poems Adhoc and chosen Trova,
of shy Trojan verse, I dare today if I kissed her in front of me…, Her! she would jump from the sky-hyperesthetic ..., in the inhuman to the world, Aion Celestine aurora, bleed your star in great defiance today In herself She ..., fetid condemnation of sweetness and aura in between her ... just be, same be, supported be ..., Oh ... Goddess Hestia against your leg disarmed appendix, meadow and vein braid ..., attacked by lost love and thirsty written everything tempts ..., everything wields obscurely if I take you to our Olympus ... at night loving you whole .., emptying everything with no other hand.
singing in the vine and the cleft of her intimate company, may she be exterminated ...

Love it if it were a nailed stake ..., it hurts by nailing ..., with stakes hurting ... exhausting the supra lips,  supra yours ..., the start of silica, I continue writing fully to her ... point of sword and blood made blurred, secret written maiden mythology, sword letter…, cyclamen balm made whole if I had you!

To the loves of the world, I say ..., cover your ears mushroom of boredom, your torn ears waste to hear rather than sordid to say ...
my blood kills, my blood revives! I **** my blood and I **** everyone with your blood scattered, and their ***** blood scattered ...?

Do not leave me alone until nightfall ... I only ask for holy water,
emptied from your mouth Goddess Hestia who flies with tons over me ... I only ask for a Xiphos sword with its sharp, ******, and scattered romantic blood ... to write to the wars of love that I have lost ... and the wars of love that I have conquered ... "

"... Alikanto says:" remember the Hoplite commander in Gaugamela, remember how with his head he dodged arrows so that they would not hit his body or chest "From the present moment that he falls by surrendering in his memory, he goes down to a stream and is imprisoned in the Vanitatory quagmire, he continues on his path reaching a jealous lagoon, he drinks sacred water and when he drinks again he manages to perceive the image of it in the mirror of the water of Aion… calling him from Patmos! Law that reminded his master of how he died for everyone in the world, just as the world would not let him bring more to die for him, because there was no more space ... "

Following Alikanto clenched his jaws too hard, all his incisors falling off, he asked the Gods in front of Hestia to restore them to him fifteen days before arriving at the Ekadashi on Patmos where his master would love all the lives of the world, as well as the hidden cries behind doors hiding the power of God… laughing at the flashes of irises and sighs for mummified lives that were left!

Vernarth, from Patmos, was calling him so that his eyes would look greenish like hooves of gray-green and vanadium fire, with humorous staining and with a clean predictive table in the near prediction. AlIkanto says goodbye to Kalimnos by sprinkling hyper-odoriferous chestnut flowers with Apoika in Kalimnos, loving from above, flying very close, loving everything so much that he forgot to fly. Sometimes he would fall hard but he would recover re-tried as a young steed in the womb of a mother and of a new species to be born! ending in the proportional one that would arrive at the residual that is the result of 24 by 38 = 888 of the Cirio de Hestia.

From this position the planets revolved around the brightness of Selene, linking to this numeral pattern in the zodiac house of de Reuben, 'boiling with water, which is Aquarius, who holds a vase or a cup and pours the waters of the New era. This is where Vernarth again takes the Gordian knot and throws it over the Matakis that was holding the world of both, where Saint John has to strongly support both of this tribulation, for the concepts of knowing how to cope with the parapsychological solar day of Vernarth, going back as it is with Alexander the Great 11 days before the Ekadashi, or half a month of the consecration of the phenomenon astral plane that would happen in the lands of Patmia. The Dragon's tail became spasmodic as it was unable to consecrate the agreement of the Over Being that found itself with the twinned identity in the twelve tribes when the bags of water fell on the Matakis, where the reverence would come from the departure of Reuben, and the blue-violet thekelet that perched in a mega rainbow over the roadstead of Skalá, turning the midwife's bags when she was going to give birth, carrying an infant with an ultraviolet Thekelet in the immediacy of Vernarth's Aquarium in its date of bi birth, and that of the leap-year that refers to the house of Capricorn with his beloved and faithful companion Wonthelimar, and the concomitance Simeon with Reuben, the latter being legitimately from the house of Capricorn.
Moshe's Kérata
Greg Hale Dec 2015
Quite disenchanting, writing about what is really happening.
A throbbing head, a sore back, aching muscles and tired eyes only emphasize the calling of my soft warm bed willing me to take shelter in sleep. No I mustn't or the thoughts will slip away, escape my ever flailing grasp. As if I had enough trouble catching them it seems as soon as I touch one it begins to fade and crumble in my clutch. The beauty of my words diminishes with each second I am not writing. I do not deprave myself of sleep because I want to write. I simply listen to that which calls the loudest.
Lisa Mendoza Jul 2016
admittedly,
i have wandering eyes
and a mouth that had kissed
too many hands goodbye
and for a while
i've gotten used to dry spells
and disenchanting love affairs that
has left me coughing black and blue dust

yet my loneliness craves the warmth
my cold bones can't provide
but i run away with heightened wariness
at any chance to defrost
--L.m.
AS May 2015
"It has been a really long while... You didn't even bother to ask how I've been," she said. "Perhaps that says alot about me. I am probably that disenchanting."
A.S
Michael T Chase Mar 2021
The object of meditation is to attain a why-less insightful personality.
Like everything is "its own cause".
Life has become disenchanting by the common awareness of my real familiarity with it.
My thinking of "what is the need of this or that" is truly a mark of low intelligence, or a common sign of age.
Thanks to "The Little Book of Atheist Spirituality"
Thine distorted reflection rippled
within rain maker's pool
   upon a midnight clear
full moonlight sonata
   flooded shallow abyss,
cleaved fractal structures of silence
reverberating deathly hallow from 'ere
to infinity, whence magic wand
whipped out from
   whereabouts unknown

wove disenchanting spell
   atop me shaded noggin more'n
   fifty ruffle lake  suns
   Dorian Gray pictured here
to fore, awakened
   from drunken stupor,
whence sober self

saw repulsive trouper
   fluid dynamic image jeer
at *** bellied, dead panned,
and ad libbed the mere
ore image lam bent,
   mutilated spindled
various horrid aspects of
   myself nine inch
   rusty nails impaired

which, aghast at such
   creepy distortion i didst rear
like a bucking bronco unclear
how this horrid, jagged,
   limned paragon did wear
a grotesque disfigured Joeseph Conrad
   lost within heart of darkness – maybe Zaire

or Zulu-land, this
   soaked silhouette half bare
from waist to head showed unmanly
sagging overly engorged *******
plus right and left elephant sized ear
egad, THAT CANNOT BE ME,

yet upon performing
   self exam a glare
ring outburst ensued,
cuz thy once
   bronzed handsome physique
now grist for a Joker to jeer
and fodder made
   for television series created,
directed, and executed by Norman Lear
which role might be
   temporary for Halloween, but near
lee every SINGLE day and night,
thy aged dusk fraught hominid ******,
leaped, pooh poohed I ham ill prepared

to accept, roistering, rollicking,
rueing this Frankenstein scarred
complex deplorable edifice able,
ready, and willing to be tarred
rather than evince flabbiness,
gruesome homeliness, instance

when no objection would arise
to live out the remaining days of this life
as the world wide web turns, spins, rattles...
and voluntarily sign myself into a stew ward
with (at minimum ), a ghoulish, gnarly,
gummy self activated door

leading to privet hedge row trimmed
topiary resplendent yard
cuz every cotton pickin, friggin,
fingerhut lickin portal iz barred
dated Friday the thirteenth
   with **** face on that card!
Ah... methinks legal tender
could be a boon to help me bolster
mein kampf with necessary material equipage,
which prospect to acquire essential
commodities sabotaged
at the altar of gullible travails,
thus perhaps thee could make
a contribution to mine gofundme page.

Castaway stranded on figurative
deserted island pitted with absolute
zero salvation, sole recourse
finds scant consolation with prayer
lifetime atheist draws futile faith
within himself grudgingly accepting
feeble accomplishments ditto permanent
estrangement among kith and kin tortured
more punishingly versus death sentence of
choice: firing squad, gallows, guillotine...

nostalgically sentimentally, and zealously
yearning fore gone girl(s) of mine, one
spouse two grown offspring long since
severed emotional home ties even when
under same roof appalled, embarrassed,
jarred particularly regarding good for
nothing hang dog looking papa, mentally
unfit father, who wrought misery
upon heads he begat chronically dirt poor
Mainline moocher never earning a ******

cent claiming psychological disability
(verity substantiated with professional
assessment attests to psychological mental
illness probably present during inchoate
biological development in utero, and most
definitely congenital) unfortunate no
supportive resources, thus experiencing
grievous incalculable relentless scapegoat
treatment - me no kidding
inadvertently subjected with cruel, diabolical,

exponential sucker punches
while riding the bus sitting stone temple pilot
faced during class, belittled, defeated,
framed unfairly as spitball culprit during
eighth grade mathematics with Missus Labosh
subsequently painfully shy lad threateningly
harangued, and nearly paddled courtesy
Methacton Junior High School principal
Mister Clock believe me you, aye remained
mum about said incident til...this moment,

not surprising since every unpleasantry
suppressed unwittingly festering within
psyche in tandem with threatening rapier
sarcasm ostracizing jibes cumulative
wrath unwaveringly smoldering, passively
brooding, visualizing punching meanies,
screaming... wanting to **** - sublimated hurts
glowering, exploding... decades later -
more often surfacing unannounced at odd
times venting bile at wife directly, and barking

at deux daughters subjecting innocent progeny
with mine anger, or rerouting, harboring,
channeling... pathological addiction answering
and posting personal classifieds, yours truly
guilty attempting to appease call of wild at mental,
physical, and spiritual expense additionally setting
poor paternal example accompanied with detached
avoidance maybe costing yours truly king's ransom
and/or receiving my just desserts, yes?

Thus yours truly imagines
whizzing backward at light speed
to reverse engineer
and rejigger space/time continuum
many stupid blunders
that cost me being knocked out cold
courtesy rock em sock em life size robots
compromising opportunities
the figurative ball
slipped out of my court
bungled, fumbled, mulcted  
courtesy naiveté I did excede.

Analogous to albatross greater than weight
Atlas shrugged, severely over burdening
fountainhead, yours truly intermittently
wavered, sputtered, petered... out bumped
uglies fumphered, rutted, née languished
along since birth, (possibly while in utero,
or even moment of conception nada so
thoroughly good by George) or well resigned
***** deeds done dirt poor deeply grooved
within very self restricted comfort zone,

eventually digging deep black hole sun,
infinite void everywhere exit prohibited,
whence twilight o' mine waning existence
awakened sober inescapable realization
impossible mission to garner je nais ne
quois joie de vivre, thus officially reeling
courtesy psychological angst (strumming),
whereby galactic dash board pluck pitted
against frantic ethereal desperation) eek
clip sing el sol lure rays refracted back

rendering blind did as a bat sightless
wayward son helplessly, rustling grimly,
futilely groping, lumbering, resigning,
scarce tenacity clutch slipping
automatically bing foisted transcendent
state, where absolute zero soundcloud
bereft succor – meadow fore enshrouds
hermetically sealed turin soul (mine)
cocooning grubby human forever
pinwheeling within otherworldly realm

timelessly suspended within infinite void
n'er aging, rather regressing toward
infantile state, unable to distinguish
familiarity after aye promise never tug
heave fanta see piquing curiosity
acronym spelled out regarding above
soda describing bubbling sensation
"** And Never Touch Again,"
red alert universal emergency advisory
button commencing countdown to

Armageddon, but subsequently resign
quintessential pregnant outcome
housing grimacing deathstill blackness
unbeknownst to constitute afterlife,
or less disconcerting, disheartening,
disenchanting... prospect namely
imperfectly square discombobulated
chaos betokens palatable alternative,
perhaps revelation (cryptically spelled
courtesy Chinese fortune cookie) less

dim sum more tolerable conclusion possibly
incorporates being rezoned, repurposed,
reassigned... within parallel universe fast
D'Cell rating indicative approaching
beginning space/time continuum, where
cosmos concentrated into microscopic
speck sagely, taste fully, gingerly...
handled... courtesy garden variety
budding ***** **** sapien.

An armature linkedin to robotic divine
creator, who never tired plying matter
into big bang dang boomerang contraption
only to release stretched material with
frisson cold snap, crackle, and pop
indiscriminately, haphazardly, gamely...
flicked teensy weensy itty bitty cosmic
dross - poofing into immeasurable shift
shaping said vast bajillion mile wide
instant karma credit witnessed umpteenth
birth expanding into former vacuum of
nothingness simulating an all encompassing
immense awesome kaleidoscope when
viewed thru virtual reality goggles all
the while frustrated wordsmith toying
with incomprehensible far out mind
boggling notion defying elaboration.
Samara Jan 24
scrambling quickly around the ferris wheel while trying to look out and around at the passing summit only to see unlit streets and broken tambourines. riding the high not forged down to the valley between two foes. whatever comes to me now i show. put it on display with hopes that it grows into something beautiful. within me, it's little less than ephemeral. what goes up must come down must also go back up but it's sickening down to the pit of my stomach to find no altitude to make myself a home. wherever i go. wherever i go, i don't know what i want to know. some spark be it magic be it profound, dive in head first in water knee-deep. stream of consciousness not enchanting nor disenchanting like the babbling brook so often written about. a haunting presence to be read but like the divine cannot be known and only felt so too are these cards that i was dealt.  still- i feel nothing but sick by the thought of enduring on a breathless path removed from my senses. thickening of any sense or desire to progress into the darkness around, to find warmth aglow guiding the way. this way forward, walk towards me. one step forward and suddenly i can't see inward or outward, still i'm told- to carry onward. onward i must go but muddied conventions run quick and clear constitutions disappear.  there used to be places and spaces carved into stone in the jungles for those like me. sequestered from shame by not fitting a mold indistinctly so. not for a purpose, only for daft languishment fading back into the collective unseemingly so. biddings left unbalanced, dreams remain in the trenches dug by unequivocal noise surrounded by pomp and confusion. i take two bellows to fill my lungs emptied by a stampede consisting of one-only me. footsteps drumming to quicken my unbeating heart into action where none is wanted. companion of conviction resolute in distractions to pass through the present day into a land of unventured composition. befriending brutal honesty but only the brute reveals itself. masked and muted by blithe forgivings. destined for isolation made worse by longing for kinship that has long sailed away back across the atlantic into another realm colored by iridescence that no longer exists and very likely never did. there's no way for me to know though: which way these words came from or which way they'll go. so i stay entrenched; my feet wet in this unbroken stream of consciousness.

— The End —