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Charlie Chirico Oct 2013
Buckled at the knees, face in the dirt,
one can only pray for enlightenment, but
at a time when morality is valued by
silver and gold,
a baton twirled
is mightier than the sword dipped in ink
and sprawled across ancient parchment.
Men march in unison, into foreign lands,
while chanting words of a dead language:
Democratia Sit Virtus

Flag inserted into the land, the
obligatory explanation is written
on paper, covered with black marks, in soot.
Erupt in glory, a city once was.
Redacted sentences are had for
good reason:
to keep characters in the dark.
Transparency is only a concept that
belongs on the back of a bookmark.
Dust covers
clouds and envelopes the sky,
as dark and as black as superstition.

We speak with symbols, because subliminal
advertising becomes cogitative rather than
entering one ear and leaving the other.
What belongs in the border is bold, as we
marginalize open space, although the occasional
proverbial foot will cross the line. A slash of the
throat will tell you that all eyes are dotted,
just as some lines are crossed.
Like an olive branch exposed as thorns.

A proper medium is exploiting
vulnerability under rule.
Hot air is expelled when converting oxygen,
or exclaiming honesty and integrity;
lest we forget land comes from sea.
It is in their nature; our nature to build
roots underground.
Better to keep intricacies hidden.
Never is an iceberg fully exposed.
A brain.
The Temple.
Certainly a vault.

What you keep from the people
is for the people.
And common ground is neither
left nor right,
despite what you've been made
to believe.
It's about the courage
to think before you speak.
It's the courage it takes
to gather strength and
beseech the weak.
I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chilled into a selfish prayer for light;
And they did live by watchfires—and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings—the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed,
And men were gathered round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other’s face;
Happy were those which dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanoes, and their mountain-torch;
A fearful hope was all the world contained;
Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour
They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks
Extinguished with a crash—and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them: some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnashed their teeth and howled; the wild birds shrieked,
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawled
And twined themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food;
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again;—a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought—and that was death,
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails—men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devoured,
Even dogs assailed their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famished men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the drooping dead
Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answered not with a caress—he died.
The crowd was famished by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heaped a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage: they raked up,
And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other’s aspects—saw, and shrieked, and died—
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless—
A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirred within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they dropped
They slept on the abyss without a surge—
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The Moon, their mistress, had expired before;
The winds were withered in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perished! Darkness had no need
Of aid from them—She was the Universe!
sobroquet Feb 2014
I cannot recall the precise moment  of my arrival at Anhedonia
memories blindsided by a phantasmagoric comorbid collage of cant
precipitated by some newspaper reportage or holocaust story
some creepy instance that breached the precipice between simple sorrow and permanent melancholia
some fatal blow that cinched the deal
some horrid event that could not heal
some dejected disappointment that could not be resolved
some moment of unguarded clarity when integrity dissolved

nevertheless I have arrived at this mangled juncture
élan a mania not even Edison's medicine can extirpate
I was quite lighthearted before the inferno
before my brain broke
ennui now a   turgid companion
feeding on gaiety, never sated, seeking famine
esurient unrelenting usurper of  happiness
go away, leave me alone, relish some other  soul's  madness

gone is any exuberance, glee or mirth
miseries are mine, many the days since birth
better I was carried  from the womb straight to the grave
a fatuous existence, clamoring and grasping in vain
it's as if I was born into a well
but these waters they burn
the bludgeoning alcohol a liquid hell

Oh florid loquacity, you are an impostor
your verse is an adversary
a foray of jagged rhythm justifying a storm
a sordid verbosity  assuring no norm
a plaintive scratching guild of recriminative collaboration
some alliance of fulminating disquietude
the cost for the fare on the adventure to:
the stunning moment  you too will visit Anhedonia
anhedonia |ˌanhēˈdōnēə, -hi-|
nounPsychiatry
inability to feel pleasure.
DERIVATIVES
anhedonic |-ˈdänik| adjective
ORIGIN late 19th cent.: from French anhédonie, from Greek an- ‘without’ + hēdonē ‘pleasure.’



*The Sire Of Sorrow (Job's Sad Song
http://jonimitchell.com/music/song.cfm?id=55

*This Must Be The Place
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1440345/

"You're obliged to pretend respect for people and institutions you think absurd. You live attached in a cowardly fashion to moral and social conventions you despise, condemns, and know lack of all foundation. It is that permanent contradiction between your ideas and desires and all the dead formalities and vain pretenses of your civilization which makes you sad, troubled and unbalanced. In that intolerable conflict you lose all joy of life and all feeling of personality, because at every moment they suppress and restrain and check the free play of your powers. That's the poisoned and mortal wound of the civilized world."  Octave Mirbeau
Everything I once knew has been stilled:

I fathomed my mother’s voice whispering
In my juvenescence,
She weaved a tapestry of tales
Whilst her pearlescent eyes
They glistened,
Enveloped by downy lashes
Ebony and yet unassuming
For
The night domineered.
Unblemished enough to
Garner the praise
In the clarity of
My reverential heart,
As I lay there
Tucked in,
Once peacefully,
Yet now shaken
By
The disquietude
Of the restless twilight,
Upon an azure king-sized mattress
Primped in creaseless Space Jam sheets.


They were set by
The grace of her manicured hands
However slightly,
Chestnut and replete
That longed to,
By the Blessed Oracle
Speaking with a God,
Summon the Salvation
Of my long lost rest
That Raged Leviathan
Where,
To be cocooned in The Sea of Shadows
The thew of dreams would be born.

She sanctified my fears
Like coal oppressed for aeons
By
That Treasured Sphere
(Terraqueous Gaia)
Until by
The Womb of the Mountainous Mother,
Were reborn
As the Children of Diamonds.

Or perhaps
Like a baptismal kiss
That floweth from an ivory chalice
By which
The soil of my life flowered,
For a quaked youth was
Bestowed
With a fading taste
Of the transcendence at dawn
Poured upon my palate
Until
The Garden of the Valiant
Bursted into bloom.
(Tis where the Behemoth lay nestled
Under the Age Old Tree of Life
And Sylphs soar beneath iridescent twilit skies
Illuminated by Providence
Of the Half-Faced Crimson Moon).


If I so chose
I could
Be anything
That
I imagined, even
Today.

Ephemeral though
Those moments were
My reminiscence
Doth memorialize in crystal stasis
My infantile longing,
Tis ceaseless in its yearning
To be comforted
When
Pangs overtake me:

But what fable is my weapon
Now?
The Hallowed Excalibur,
Or perhaps even The Ultima Weapon
With the Impenetrable Aegis
Imparted by
The Mighty Crystal
Bestowing might to its Anointed
The ones who war with their own iniquity,
Until their paths align
Like celestial bodies
And they’ve arisen triumphant,
Eclipsed the fictitious light
Of a false deity
Who besmirched the truths
That upheld The Cosmos
Since its genesis?

There is one tale,
(Lean in, listen closely,
This is my Susurrus in the Night)
Tis no figment
And one I found most favorable,
One of a man
Simple,
Strong,
Stunning,
Sound,
Sapient,
And high over all but
The Desideratum of the Holy,
The one to whom
Even the angels, seraphs, and cherubs bow.

He was scourged
In flesh and spirit
Till his pulse was silenced,
His inestimable blood
Prophesied to vanquish
Chaos and
The Futile Wind
Of life
That by
By the disobedience of
Our
Tarnished Father,
Is now
An accursed child

She
Is effaced by
Time
(For Sorrow has no end)
And
Tormented by Space.
(Height,
Breadth,
And depth,
O that Existential Fabric)
His caverns
Condemned Her
Without
Compassion.

The thought of solitude
Looming in mortality
Were the dreadful horns
Of an Auroch that
Pierced
Her consciousness
Until by
Proud Oppression
Hope
In its frailty
Was a dandelion
Strewn by skinless hands
Against the immaterial
Brush of the breeze.

To flourish then
Wither,
Wax and
Wane;
Never
Was a fate
That our God intended.
For eternity shines and
Is a supernova
In the galaxy of our hearts
And though undiscerned
By many
Has always been
And
Will always be
The Cherished Wish of the Stars,
For though we are an exhalation
By contradistinction,
Even they become nebulous
Fading into dust.

We shall
Become
Exalted and ennobled
Even to these who are
Of the luminaries,
Lowly
Brothers and sisters
Without Ears,
Eyes,
Hearts,
Or minds.

Yes,
(These vibrations resonate from the Cosmo-Plexus of Love)
Soon enough they say,
Soon enough.
Hey guys, this poem is written as a thematic embodiment of a religious-based autobiographical piece I am in the process of assembling (It will be a metaphorical interlude if you will in between two segments of the piece and thus act as a segue). It was written as a free-verse piece. I have not written in about a month which has given me time to reflect and introspectively examine the Universe around me; consequently, I hope that you guys can perceive my metamorphosis in my month long cocooning as a writer. I wanted to encapsulate the whimsicality, fancifulness, and innocence of youth by incorporating myth, imagery, and imagination (almost reminiscent of a fairy-tale whispered to a child before bed, hence the title "A Susurrus in the Night"). I kind of rushed putting this out because I was so eager to share with you guys, so forgive me if it's not as refined as my usual writings. *Since posting I have edited it on this website* I this does not convolute and thus make it less understandable! I have so much to say through this piece! Thank you so much for your support and God bless!
A O Slater Dec 2012
Physically frayed
Mentally mangled
Spiritually stunned
Melissa Hardie Sep 2012
Sombre, pensive, disquietude
Disconnected, subtle, lewd
All emotions rolling 'round
Shattered glass on holy ground

Silver lining made of stone
Face of darkness set alone
Wings of sulphur, ashen down
Butterflies stitched in her gown

Queen of sacrilegious lies
Blood and fire stain black eyes
Lips like poison, dripping lust
Serpent tongue that whispers trust

Silken skin of granite gray
Sparkles stone when in the day
Prehensile tail and wicked strength
Ebony hair of staggered length

**** woman of the night
Seeking prey and seeking fight
Lay you down on holy stone
Death by *** though not alone

When her eyes light on your skin
Flames of lust lick up and in
Against her charms you've not a chance
So open wide and join her dance
Thursday, January 2nd, 2020 &
Friday, January 3rd, 2020

The Resplendent Sol shineth forth for each one of us. We are all one, even whence divided. In truth, there is no schism betwixt us.

       I awoke this morning assured of the Cosmo-Plexus' Empyreal Love, The Ransom of the Lovebound, and Provenance of Life by the Holy Dove. I am sure that his auspices remain even now. Even in the din of disquietude, in the Soulborne War of Stillness, his aegis dost remain.

I am roused from my slumber by foreordinance. The maelstrom of lament only stirs the Leadings of Lovelight within. I must simply listen to the glistening waft to illumine my shadow'd microcosm.

From what Starlit Aethers shall my Niveous Dove alight? From thence shall heartsease unfurl! I know not when the Light of Life shall shine his visage upon me; yet and still, I must trust in the sweetness of hope. Her honesty inspires faith & amour.

Somewhere over the Rainbow, there exist no needs for unrequited dreams. Why? The fantast fathoms imagination an extension of reality, a synergy, a duality, a plurality. Yet, even the phantasy desires realization.

The Rainbow is an insignia of the Noachian Covenant. The prism is a kaleidoscopic thread, one woven across the firmaments by a Grand Creator. It is a dream realized, by the Divine, of the Divine, and from the Divine.

       How can I find stability, how can I summon strength without the Light of the Lovebound within? Our moor in a sea of sanctity, is he, Christ.

Sometimes I feel chasmic & abyssal, as though my heart were a rapacious sea. I know not from whence this emptiness has arisen, nor from whence it can be sundered. Yet and still, I carry on, sometimes consumed by the seductive embrace pulsing betwixt my ribs. Will the charm of despondency unfurl its pall over me forevermore?

At this moment, pristine synchronicity aligns my heart & mind, thereby affixing my entity upon cloud-nine. I am genuinely enough; I am genuinely substantive, for, at this moment, reason & rhyme intertwine upon the wavelength of the sublime. Therefore, I choose happiness not because it comes easily, but because it is the only real & authentic way to live.

----------------------------------------------------------­------------------------------------------------------------The Life-Bearing Dictum:----------------------------

(Added for the
Promulgation of Inspiration
On
March 11th, 2020)

----------------------------------------------------------­--------------------------------

(I) "Creativity is the residue of time wasted."

-Einstein

(II) "Darkness is the birth of a new dawn. It should be celebrated, not feared.

-Aladdin Zackaria

(III) "For look! I am creating new heavens
and a new earth;
And the former things will not be called to mind,
Nor will they come up into the heart"

-Isaiah 65:17 (New World Translation Study Edition)

(IV) "For you the sun will no longer be a light by day,
Nor will the shining of the moon give you light,
For Jehovah will become to you an eternal light,
And your God will be your beauty.
No more will your sun set,
Nor will your moon wane,
For Jehovah will become for you an eternal light,
And the days of your mourning will have ended."

-Isaiah 60: 19, 20 (New World Translation Study Edition)

---------------------------------------------------------------­-----------------------------------------------------------------­----------------------------------------------------
Words uttered
Reverberate on a sonority
Now distinctly tinged
By the sanguine ripples of
Malice & betrayal.

A soul bound
Has been unfettered;
Yet, pain lingers in the anomaly
Once inhabited  
By a paradoxical wholeness.

Perhaps suffering is life,
Maybe life is suffering,
But what is life,
Without art
(?)

The Magnum Opera of the World
Were forged in an
Empyrean blaze of spontaneity;
Penultimate Vision;
Mastery of emotions; Mind-over-matter.

(The Legacy Carries)
Ever onward; therefore,
Breathe,
The Light is near,
Oblivion of Shadow.




Excelsior Forevermore,



Ω



Sanders Maurice Foulke III
sobroquet Jun 2013
renegade memories
relentless effrontery
rogue  fractured intruders
a formulable formidable aside inside
man is a modified monkey
a jackdaw in peacock's feathers
contradictions, the multiplicity that is a unity
a patchwork of odds and ends
snips and snails
                                  dreams and delusions                                
hopes and fears
a mystifying  knot of  phantasmagoric  disquietude

agape in a stupefied bewilderment
as an autistic child swept up in minutiae
inscrutable incongruities
melange of matters beyond  explanations
maundering machinates
necessary inventions repeating and reforming
sheltering some aspect of the mind's deforming
'reaction formations' sotto voce instructs the analyst
defending emotions at the personalities bequest
    merrily merrily merrily merrily,  life is but a dream
psychotherapy is no mere scheme
partial selves
Jacqe Booth Nov 2010
Sitting, restless

In this changeling

Sensation

Of freshness and renewal.

Running

Rat on a wheel.

Each passing day

A different way

Of feeling,

An altered state of mind.

Seeking

To find

A man within the boy.

Hoping to see

The real me.

Alive and kicking.

Hot flushed, this post determined puberty

And the desperate need to feel.

An urgent angst to Be.

Short fuse and temper flare.

I’m not really there

Yet still somehow

Everywhere and

Everything;

Else breathing.

Dysmorphic chest

Heaving

Exigency

In this

Juncture

Soul puncture,

And bloodied bandaids

Cast off

My heart

Once worn on my sleeve.

I am finger skin,

Flesh and nail

Torn

And jagged edges

Peeling.

Perplexity kneeling,

I am deeply lost inside of me.

Begging to be found.

Compund; unbound.

They say that beggars can’t be choosers

Only losers left to dreaming.

They also say

That I may be a dreamer

But I’m not the only one.

I will come undone in this undoing.

Eschewing

A life lived unalive.

Slow unravel

To once again

Begin

To belong in this

Skin

Stitched bleeding riches

To my bare and brittle bone  

He is not alone

I feel him

Running

Waiting

Sating disquietude

With an attitude

Unshackled

He is not running

Rather feet flying

A rat inside

A wheel.
Amanda Kay Burke Nov 2020
Moving faster on than the speed of light
I am stuck here standing still
Make the journey look so easy
The climb is all uphill

I have attempted to take the first step
Cannot manage even minute motion
Limbs must weigh a thousand pounds
Resistance as if in the ocean

My awareness acutely sharpens
Realize I am in over my head
Suspected the pain would hit me eventually
Didn't know it would feel like a ton of lead

Waves of loneliness continue crashing down
Drowning in a sea of solitude
Silence keeps me company at night
Amplifying disquietude

Toxic impure tainted thoughts
Stain images in my brain
One by one they descend and splatter
Like stinging drops of acid rain

Poisoning environment
Questions harsh and demanding
Every breath inhaled is polluted
My body somehow remains standing

Inside hopes are spiraling to the ground
Impact results in fire
Burning dignity
Blackened and charred
Flames that never tire

Wayward demons romp in soul
Delight in my dismay
Carving tic-tac-toe boards into flesh
Misery just another game they play

I reached a brand new all time low
Abandoned strength to care
Cannot find the motivation to do Laundry
Today I wore no underwear

Those unfortunate enough
Cross my path
Targets for my distress
Knowing causing them despair
Does not make mine any less

I bear witness to actions
Hardly can trust my eyes
This selfish behavior is that of
Somebody I do not recognize

A sporadic black hole swallowing light
Eclipsing visible sun
Pacing anxious circles
Trapped
Nowhere to run

I wonder if you gazed at me now
Would you feel any emotion at all?
Have you closed off your heart from me
A tall
Thick
Cement wall?

For one last kiss I would trade with glee
Every possession I own
Nostalgia blooms under skin
Chilling to the bone

I felt lightning when we touched
Flash of passion warm and strong
I feel frozen without that spark
Depending on it so long

The galaxies in eyes were deep
Brighter than the multitude of heavens stars
Shining harder when staring at me
Still sparkle wherever you are

I miss the way torsos collided
Hugging eachother tight
Perfect puzzle pieces molded
Fitting together just right

So much time experienced by your side
Why do I yearn for more?
Should be content with memories
Let you walk out the door

An invisible string tethers me here
Tied with fear and blame
Following like a shadow
Like a moth to flame

A small voice tucked within
Whispered phony fantasies
Argued there was still hope for us
Was wrong to entertain those pleas

You take my universe in palms of your hand
With fingers firmly shake
It collapses
Manage to convince me
It was caused by MY mistake

Again you paint my world grey
Colors fade from sights eyes see
I have no right to be mad that you took them away
You are the one who gave them to me

The day you decided to leave
Without saying goodbye
Consider a sort of funeral
Let our relationship die

Twilight finds us separate places
Dwelling in a dream
I inhabit dreaded ditches
Realities worse than they seem

But I was affected more drastically
By the void left behind
You felt a bit emptier alone
I lost huge chunks of heart and mind

You carried on with your chin held high
No ghosts stalking every move
Recollection of rippling presence
Haunting hologram I can't remove

Into self-pity I throw myself
Asking for merciful end
How else will I find relief?
Tried countless ways to mend

That ends in certain failure
Lacerations cannot fully close
They bleed and bleed and bleed
Dripping out woes

And I was at breaking point
Each cell cracked and shattered
Exploded into tiny particles
Damaged
Across soil scattered

With a gust of wind was disbanded
I'm fated to retrace my tracks
Collecting pieces of my soul
Haven't yet gotten all back

You changed me irreversibly
Can't stand my reflection
Where beauty you used to know once stood
Is a paradigm of imperfection

For life of me I can't remember
When switched from hot too cold
The truth is my temperature dropped
My hand is now too icy to hold
Phew. That took awhile to get down but worth the effort. I had a hard time finding an ending but what do you think?
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2015
for my friend, AJB, mother, artist*

why
would anyone believe in invisible...
coordinator of billions of trillions
of interactions daily,
the microscopic
the telescopic

at what level
is there intercession
where is the
intervention,
rhymed reasoning of
impoverishing failing-me inadequate comprehension

so here I am
at 4:00 am
wailing and complaining
not so much at life's happenstance,
not even a foolish why me uttered,
talking to invisibility,
demanding culpability
at the very least
an apology

by that act
admitting the fact
that in conversation with parties
invited and drop-ins welcome,
in the silence sewn
in the residence permanent
of my mind's lobe of disquietude

logic forgone,
I am a believer,
no understanding
nor forgiving
at the illogic
of my tragedy
mine,
not so divine,
wailing and complaining

this my diatribe
knowing your silence
is a listening signature,
my complaining and wailing
my curse my blessing,
my transmitting frequency
of a multivariate equation
demanding a solution

too busy mastering the universe?
your data base
endless and unfathomable
file this under
audios of
YouTubes of
complaining and wailing,
hoping you cleanse yourself
with a good long listen
I am weary of mothers losing their children,
I am weary of failing to achieve reconciliation,
cessation of formalities, truce delivered,
unafraid to call this what it is,
damning fate, for no god could be so cruel...

If only there was a Dislike button for life and poems
Nico Bee Aug 2012
Disquietude
Rustle my mind

Iron out the creases 
Left me with nothing
But perfect pleats
I can't bear to understand
And flat surfaces 
Lacking the wrinkles

Of chocolate
Of stories
Of moments

Maybe of passion
Maybe of clumse
Maybe of sadness

Then again
Doesn't no wrinkles
Tell the story of
A perfectly ironed shirt

A moment
A story

Maybe of passionate ironing
Maybe of clumsy ironing
Maybe of sad ironing

Who am I to judge this shirt-mind
Perhaps 
The ironing
Is chocolate
In and of itself.
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2015
dying and living in a pantheon
~


a dusty storage place
for basement keepsakes,
somewhere out back,
full of emeritus stocking stuffers,
an ex-trendy,
royalty-dethroned room

where kept
ancient scriveners,
last year's flash frozen princesses and
plastic wrapped scribes,
cloud stored,
on soft decaying hard drives

prior renters, leases unrenewed,
now pushed aside,
upcoming upstanding upstarts,
looking to trade up,
let bigger quarters,
an existential reminder,
that in the word game,
no perm-press recognition,
in today's poetry biz,
it's what ya done lately

deaf dumb blind,
unsung former idols,
talk to mirrors
that no longer answer,
dial 1-800-pantheon,  
sorry, number no longer in service,
so you voyageur-visit
the other side of Styx,
a bluff overlooking
a body's work,
where glory fleeting
comes to rest,
where time judges well,
partiality impartial,
selects thy best

author an audience of sole one
that be more than
good and plenty,
a heaping teaspoon of sufficient,
glance back at discarded, outdated maps,
glory may transit
but satisfaction eternal,
when you read the old writes thinking
****, did I write this?
"Yes," answers a creased smile
cracking crusted lips

~~~~~

then blood of pride and satisfy, rejuvenates

chest warms, heart thumps,
quill beckons, tablet charges - jot hot

write for whom the bell tolls,
knowing full well
this raucous bell tolls for thee,
you re-become an
irrational ill-defined room possessed

heat,
this realized, fevered and fervent, physical pleasure,
sensory gladness,
the fat fullness of creation,
flooded breathable sunlight,
stormy uncalming indigo waters,
a natural disquietude beckons,
arousal of an old-friend welcoming

this encompassing emotion,
no-direction-known fearful commotion,
your mind, all skin,
tissues enflamed,
your ears speak,
your tongue listens,
five senses unified in
disheartened happy discordant perfection,
this you recognize,
this familiar,
is not a storage place
this, your true everlasting pantheon


glory glory - expel thy word works,

*the burnishing of fain fame
is not walled jailed,
but in-deed
actionable and transitory best honored,
peaks of mountainous-emotions, homeland, motherland,
recording, recoding in words-vision notions,
this is the one,
the inky clarity pantheon place
of the living poet
William A Poppen Jul 2015
Within stirs a persistent bane

birthed while on her mother’s knee,
endorsed with fiery warnings
loudly proclaimed from weekly pulpit.

Now her bones grate
against the cushion
while the rhythmic cadence
of rocking chair
runners on hardwood
breaks the dim silence


as past misdoings reverberate

on the back walls of her mind.

Disquietude prompts obsessions
she endeavors to prove invalid.
Her desire to flee

from reminders of falsehoods

and fake passions

nags her endlessly

like unforgivable sins

haunt a cloistered sister.
Neither pleas nor prayers

quell her remorseful ruminations.
Comments about wording, enjambments, content appreciated
david badgerow Jun 2021
you uncoiled my winces
with your aching summer breath
desire coursed vivid thru my veins
like the diamond sparkle of dawn-light
we intertwined & you attached yourself to my soul
& when you watched me, i felt seen
--a flower blooming in the basket
on your windowsill in the teeming light
my passion dissolved the disquietude
more simply, you set me free
you rearranged me
you dismantled me
& when i revealed myself to myself
in a swirling mirrored vertigo
i was drenched & purged on the altar

& now the emptiness is the consolation
i carry like a dream in my hands
the silence between us the only refuge
then the rains came in june
& bludgeoned the sky
it groans in despair
my chest doesn't burn anymore
it feels more like a bruise
& i linger among the futility
& wind-ripped flower petals
outside your shuttered window
like a frigid dancer on the brink
of nihilistic oblivion grasping
only for the bottom
my guilt does all of the thinking
in the wasting light
& the last note of your goodbye
barely greets me long-forgotten
from the dim shore--
one last regret--
another secret kept from me.
Yenson Apr 2019
The hatchets swings from right to left
cutting sway in magical arc glittering acidic polish
labourers strive in whimsical grafts and melliferous distune
the gods in Olympus stand akimbo watching meddling mortals

No demigods in hazey disquietude sees
for those the gods forsake wear the laurels made for Pompeii
time will tell come the days of transmogrification in Cosmos Paths
the oracles files litigation before the gods against impostors vile

The seven tongues of the seven headed dragon
flicker between the dawn and dusk, between mist and flames
salacious visions mired in morbid delight cooked with arsenic dew
a cauldron boils for givers and takers, a chalice of retribution awaits
Stephanie Apr 2018
A mirage.

Fabricated sustenance.

A false flourish.


The brush of your almond scented exhale inspires a rush that leaves me in a desired disquietude.

Still every exhale is savored by an inhale

It meanders past sun kissed mounds and valleys

Til it hits your candied oasis.


Inspiration swells with every acme reached

until

you're satiated by my nectar


Calming to a summer zephyr

I turn over to your pillowed chest,

and drift off to an insatiable reality.

+ crowned saint
Aparna Sep 2020
through diaphanous blinds

radiant sunlit boughs

high noon;

restive breaths drawn

in palpable pain

balmy wind caresses;

disquietude loud

as sparrows chirped,

hints of perspiration

upon delirious forehead

crystallized;

she fell asleep

as calescence spread

waiting for the pain to abate
period

cramps got me thinking

❛That's the thing about pain,it demands to be felt❜
- The Fault In Our Stars
Peculiar Dec 2020
Lord how do i continue?
Thy carries the freight of past horrors and future possibilities,
Upon my shoulders
Such a sense of disquietude.

I may fall due to this Lord of Light!
as every step i take on this tightrope,
flashbacks of dreadful memories come back
putting me off balance!
Nay!

I must take a step back,
or two
or fall!

Put me out of my misery Lord of mercy!
As i wobble on this rope,
trying to find my balance
How!
When their is nothing beyond this tightrope!

Lord!
All i observe into the distance is fog!
the future is bleak for me if i continue
on this tightrope!

Hail the Lord of Forgiveness!
looking behind me i see fog
what if i just jump?
from this tightrope
Ordeezy Apr 2018
Beneath the tattered roof with rays of disquietude peeping is where you will find me
My feet swollen because I have no sandals
My clothes are torn and you can see my flesh
Tightly attached to my bones like leggings.

I am a cave man. I search only for food and a place to sleep
At night the cold cuddles and I can barely sleep
The mosquitoes sing restless hymns in my ears and my blood is the price for their service.
I go from street to street with an unwashed body
Begging, then stealing becomes the only option.

I come from a world where pain and suffering is no visitor
A world where hymns of death are sung daily
Begging to leave this world, hoping to find joy at the other side.
What if we continue this
journey at the other side?
Singing hymns of agony for eternity
imber Mar 2021
liquid dawn, headphones, cold, and restlessness
pills, tears, and helplessness
it’s at times like these that I feel like I’m falling behind, without facing
disquietude, medicine short of patience

I hid in the bathroom to spit out my disappointment towards me, always the abomination
because I just can't seem to do anything right, what a desecration
they knock on the door but I have no breath left to answer
could it be because of my pounding? I can't endure the slander

lips lie then pray for attention, for someone to cry for me
but that someone is not there, and it's so dark in here

The distilled quiet
Quite a sign of disquietude

The sun shines bright
Overcast skies eclipses the light

In the shell the baby bird thrives
Invisible shells hard to break

Glass, transparent as can be seen
Breaks into shards, toughened or not

Distance, not in metrics
It’s the words, absence or otherwise

Parallel lines, forever run along
A journey, towards the end, begins
Some thoughts about silence that goes unnoticed!
Silence is not always golden
Asyura Feb 2019
Alcohol stained lips,
yours of ***** and mine of liqour.
An oddly divine combination as our tongues danced together in synchronization.
Ragged breathes and tangled limbs,
sweet honey dripping, begging for a little taste.
Hands digging into my waist,
you, between my legs.
Slippery sweat soaked skin,
our pace getting faster and faster.
Fingernails sinking into your back
leaving red territorial lines.
My body twitches.
A final release.
I cry your name out in ecstasy,
as you cried out hers.
We lay in disquietude, our naked bodies exposed,
a one night stand I’ll forever remember,
a one night stand you’ll forget once sober.
You remind me of the floating wisps of dust,
fleeting from my grasp.
Debra A Baugh Jun 2012
cloistered memories
beckon thoughts

and...

I revel in moments
of disquietude

still...

feeling his presence
Here the reluctance of nightly slumber
With my soul aflame with disquietude,
My fear, as darkness becomes my blanket,
That my eyes once shut will see you no more.

The blind can have their morning light unseen,
But my seeing you is morning to me.
What need have I for eyes but your beauty?
I should rather choose darkness with you.

I am scared! What if my eyelids rebel?
What if they are weighed down with jealousy?
My dreams are not enough! You are too true.
I’ll not sleep, lest my eyes stay closed to you.

I shall embrace insomnia’s madness
If my eyes can give me no assurance
That sleeping, they will open in the morn,
To you, only you, my truest sunrise.
Instagram @insightshurt
www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Satsih Verma Nov 2019
You were lost
in this brutal world
I was a failed truth.

Exotic your heart
still sings for the future
of awakening.

Very old, very pained
were our wounds.
Man was rising every night.

Why were you not
present at sunset, when
twilight was burning
in moon?

You need a gift
of grave to stay cool
when the sky was burning?
Wk kortas Dec 2016
They prefer if you don’t come in the normal entrance,
Where your actions and demeanor may generate
A semblance of disquietude and anxiety for those clients
With simple dislocations and the de riguer colicky infants.
Instead, you are directed to an inconspicuous doorway
Around the back by the dumpsters and empty pallets
To an unadorned room with to fill out the requisite paperwork
(Which proves quite difficult because you’re shaking;
Most likely because the room is so cold,
Or the folding chairs prove ancient and unstable),
Upon receipt of which they allow you
(Although this go-round
There’s no inked footprints or photo provided)
To take your baby back home.

As children, we learned those truths we needed to know
At the feet of claymation wise men
(Proffered to us through the good graces of Rankin and Bass)
That under-appreciated misfits will receive their reward in due time,
That Mommy and Daddy will sit,
Smiling as without a care in the world,
At the kitchen table with brother and sis
Over a piping hot breakfast forever and ever, amen
Before they adjourn to the shiny tree
Surrounded by legions of dolls, brigades of fire engines
(For Santa shall never disappoint any good boy or girl),
That children shall always bury their parents.
I now know that the snowman lied,
And that when he is removed from refrigeration,
He shall not reappear as the strong, substantial man of snow,
But become merely a puddle,
Then mist rising from the sidewalk,
As invisible as the ditties children sing
While jumping double-dutch,
As fleeting as a hug in the dark
After you’ve chased the monsters from under the bed.
Et cetera Mar 2014
There in the state of solitude
She sat, her head bowed down
Looking for the vital signs of life
The soft light of dusk, caressed her cheeks

What misfortune had come to her
She knew, and only God knew
She prayed to God, dusk prayed with her
And then twilight fell upon

She lifted her head and gazed up to the sky
Then felt her worries dissolve up high
Her disquietude just vanished
Solutions came to her

Allah helped her through
She thanked Him for that
And twilight thanked Him with her
She needed this now

Those moments of solitude
Engraved upon her heart
She’ll never forget them
‘cause there, she found God!…
~Moniba.
This was written for a contest in school, a very long time ago. Maybe in 2009.
PFL Dec 2017
Moving towards what makes you scared,
  Seems dangerous,
But doing it we must!
Safety is not embracing or accepting of what we know,
  there is a certain disquietude with familiar dread
That comes from internal conversations  unreconciled
What to do with who we are now, in the moments ahead.
Trust the “ letting go,” for fear is only an abusive perspective.
Many of us cling to our fears, doubts, self-loathing or hatred
Clutched comparative choices walk  hand in hand.
with the desire, the wanting,
to be rid ourselves of disempowerment.
William A Poppen Feb 2019
Within
stirs a persistent bane

birthed
while on her Mother’s knee

Now her bones
grate against the chair
amid her rhythmic rocking
that breaks the dim silence

Images reverberate

on the back walls
of her mind

Disquietude prompts alarm

as her obsessions claw
to unearth graves

of fears

she pretends are invalid

Her desire to flee

from reminders of falsehoods

and fake passions

nags her endlessly

like unforgivable sins

haunt a cloistered sister

Neither pleas, nor prayers
quell her ruminations.
A revision, originally written in 2011
Alex Salazar Jan 2019
an index pressed on my lips  
the air rank with cherries
spits of rain, and thunder afar
my breath at a minimum
and this love is already augured w/ scars

Under a twilight glow
Cole's incantations
ease my disquietude
her voice an effervescent hymn
lulling the snakes that reside within my soul

what paradise
to lose
a
season
under my nose

She questions the validity of her arrangement  
cards dealt by "life"
she questions me
she questions the intent
she questions tonights heavy glow.
HAHAHA
BOOHOOHOO
You made me laugh
You turned me blue
HAHAHA
BOOHOOHOO
Please wake me up
From this disquietude
I have a crippling bipolarity..
Andrew Guzaldo c Jul 2018
"Avail me liberate from my realm of disquietude,
Words of rapture you could do just that,  
May I not beg for that may I not beseech,
Only those words for a while I will be free,

A touch of rapture will achieve dry lament,
Your love supports me to be sinewy,
We will be together regardless of doth wheel,    
Fixation is not love nor is fascination love,  

When you are treated improvidently it is not love,
This is lack of the ingesting the feel of what love is,
When you act to another in benignity and oblation,
This is when love is pure and nobly prodigal,

To this love I will belong noble unquestionably,    
This is when love is indissoluble and unexpurgated,
No heights one can’t reach with true amorousness,
With pure love eloquent other nobly prodigal,
  By A.Guzaldo 07/28/2018 ©
By A.Guzaldo 07/28/2018 ©    #108

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