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"dreaminess" poems
To feel yourself falling in love With somebody over the course of months Is to realise that you're more kind, Happier, caring, gentle, and sweet- A better person in general- Keeping that person in mind. No matter what you do, Nobody else will understand The way you feel every day, The bubbliness of your actions, The air of generosity and dreaminess In every word you say. To fall in love with someone Is to notice you're not alone And that you're loved and cared for. It is to notice you matter as well And to better yourself and others Through kindness you pour. To fall deeply in love with someone Is to fall in love with yourself, To fall in love with life as a whole, To fall in love with everything. Before you even know it, Love has taken its grand toll.
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May 13, 2021
May 13, 2021 at 10:14 AM UTC
Carnival of the Animals: XIII. The Swan
There should be a word to explain the sleepy happiness I see on her face. Maybe there is, in a beautiful language like French or Arabic. But that lovely, calm dreaminess that overcomes her features is beautiful and childlike and endearing. And even if there was a word for it, it wouldn't be able to match that sort of beauty that I see on her.
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Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
Sleepy Love
My world, a relic, My hopes, unnavigated, The sky transports my dreaminess The wind wins me with drunken delight Nothing actualized From my deluge of desire, Couldn't cast a soul With my far aspirations. I celebrate the vibrant joy Of the cosmic poet, Savoring every nuance of his love I admire his formidable face As a ruthless destroyer of wrong I embrace his elixir -- love, His death, suffering and solace-- Likewise. I cherish his sparkling vigil, His endless luminosity, Then again His opaque darkness As appalling as that may be I honor his luscious love That mingles, matches, unites, As well as the rifts That rip up the heart
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May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 9:48 AM UTC
Is That All ! Perhaps Yes :)
A pumpkin-colored limo arrives at the curb of the black-and-white gala. Housemaid overnight transformed to debutante strides from the rear door to overwhelm the party of common beauties. How all gasp to view the delicacy of each step in her long-gown procession to the powerful, polished, marble floor of nobility. There, unknown to the grand society, she twirls and touches fingertips to those of the ambassador, who is looking not for goodness, but for beauty, who is believing the two come together in one body here on earth. The swelling, graceful energy that will be passed on to future story-loving ears rips apart the subdued elegance of the night. Before the middle of the darkness, she slips out of society’s sight, given over to a sacred vow that only she can understand– a transformative voice that guides her hours. An object, much like my own body, connects the spheres of magical and practical, of night-time dreaminess and day-time weariness–that sliver of land I understand. Then a foot-hold on earth, a lost shoe, a link to all evening romance, presides over the public sentiment. Citizens desire to align themselves with everlasting goodness. Out of the cinders of hot fire gone cold and lost, the steadfast inquiry continues, until we arrive at the judgment that frees us from our poverty and enslavement. A single, white shoe may lift us and step us toward such bliss.
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May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 10:34 AM UTC
Cinderella
Thoughts of you Fill my insomnia ridden mind Am I going crazy Or did I just hear you call me baby? You’re not even a distinct figure in my dreams And yet you seem to haunt my nightmares Terrors of the dark dreaminess Floating, bubbling up through my brain Like a geyser of insecurity and heartache And so here I am lying In this bed Lying to myself Imagining other loves I have yet to find And there’s your voice I hear Calling me baby Calling me back to The figment of your imaginary Self Relaxing on those inner dusty shelves Called my cerebrum No, these are just the shadows of That pre-dawn gloom Memories from yonder year that Somehow resurface in the darkness Behind my eyelids Dreams come hard to an insomniac If only these really were just dreams Instead of the mad ramblings Of a sleep deprived yet very much awake Lonely soul
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Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 5:42 PM UTC
Insomnia
Thoughts of you Fill my insomnia ridden mind Am I going crazy Or did I just hear you call me baby? You’re not even a distinct figure in my dreams And yet you seem to haunt my nightmares Terrors of the dark dreaminess Floating, bubbling up through my brain Like a geyser of insecurity and heartache And so here I am lying In this bed Lying to myself Imagining other loves I have yet to find And there’s your voice I hear Calling me baby Calling me back to The figment of your imaginary Self Relaxing on those inner dusty shelves Called my cerebrum No, these are just the shadows of That pre-dawn gloom Memories from yonder year that Somehow resurface in the darkness Behind my eyelids Dreams come hard to an insomniac If only these really were just dreams Instead of the mad ramblings Of a sleep deprived yet very much awake Lonely soul
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Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 5:43 PM UTC
Insomnia
Your image lingers And I stare at the pale clear sky Where can I go? How about the glowing oasis of your words But when I get there, the silence is strong. Those who were for you, couldn't fathom that you're gone. But I, I hold on. In this green pearly lagoon Lie images of you, treasured, so good. It's the beginning The end is done. Still it's freedom The end is gone. A glimmering beginning Your image lingers so I tried to walk out of the dream See if I could go on my own and I Ran right into Laurel Canyon. Recall where the tale began, Millions of raindrops in a timeless summer Racing thoughts and dreaminess alright It's the summer beginning I can tell you what I think of at night When the stars are flashing above Dazzled, dazzle by strangeness and sight Dazzled, dazzled, dazzled and I think I know what to do Pick up where you left off, nothing else I can do
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May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 9:35 PM UTC
Glimmering Beginning
In a pure world music and birdsong spinning the lingering melancholy no more sadness only memories and longings prostrating on the trails of yellow leaves counting the rhythms of loneliness the handsomeness of the island the dreaminess of the susurration of the beach the elegance of the sails the water as always beating the stippled quietness awaiting the next dawn a ketch drifting on the ocean shining a turquoise light portraying the poetry of the predawn or the predawn hilarity of the fish and shrimps in the ocean this is a pure world and there is music and running water in it and the samisen of moods and the psaltery of the nature whats more the happy pixies shuttling in the forest of purity.
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May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
A pure world
The sorrowful birds seemed less enchanted, Like a forgotten holocaust beating In agony, the silent grey of dawn Set forth over the mystery. Under perplexed veils I call Forth the lost days of depressing Symbols, like a raven in the distance, A storm smothering its deathly gaze. And when alone the sparrow Refused to chirp, instead wallowed In the quiet solitudes of the lucid dreaminess of the bitter infinite grey. Earth offers its deathly gaze As a meager conteplation in the Grey of the early Winter displaying Her snowy apron like some dark matron. Gradually the day drags obeying Time, slow to the mind of a sad one, Preoccupation of illusions, Like a poets inane blank page, A wind minded sadness flying Through darkened pupils: A grey irony forms, A crow cloaked as a hope Cries to the infinite grey; "I will always love you, Though you abuse me." I dreamed a glacial moment, Where time ends or begins, I was hopeful the grey would Never end and I could wear Its sad dark velvet with its Perjured love and scorned existence, I follow the shadow of storms Searching for the torment with in, The bleakness is a grey day with The sun hiding its hopeful radiance.
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Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 4:25 PM UTC
The Bleakness of Grey Days
oozing with eroticness, dripping with inexplicable sensuality, u make my heart wrench,twist & scream with undeniable pleasure. billow the flames of desire to make me feel like im burning with fire, just to cool me down with your icy piercing kiss.
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Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC
lust & dreaminess
WHAT does one do when their Mind is in the clouds but their Heart is drowning while the Pain is so loud, the Thoughts are dazed, and Memories are a m e s s that can't be cleaned, that can't be erased... this ice inside my Chest... my Lungs are losing air- but my Eyes stare off into a Place of dreaminess... i'm s p l i t into two one piece in Earth's core, sinking the other up in space floating to the other end of the galaxy.
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Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 9:09 PM UTC
A Heart and Mind so Far Apart
Galaxies separate us, but all that separates me from earth now, Is my tightly wound, dizzy head, And the dreaminess of my unused bed. Staggering stars set me alight, I will not burn up, I will not allow. The Milky Way’s haze has overtaken me, they say I belong, I disavow. A Lunar Eclipse stole the mist that has been running through my veins, am I dead? A Super Nova spoke with much pain, that I am alone now wrapped in their thread. I weep shooting stars; they leave burns down my cheeks, all of space takes a slow bow. Did somewhere along the way I forget how to sleep? Am I lost in a land of unimaginable beauty and misery? I used to be afraid of the dark night, but now I see that I was afraid of all unknown. It’s just contrast, a vast sea of endless light, and the sleep I’ve lost that goes miles deep. The clouds mock me with their pillow like appearance, for once I am above them, and I inflict the injury. The moon shines gently as I sleep for the first time as a part of space, I am a star that will grow and never be alone.
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Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 8:50 PM UTC
A Bed of Nothing
sometimes i wonder where she went, that girl. who used to love to dream and read and write and draw, who was so passionate. i wonder why she isn't here with me now, where she went, if she went anywhere at all. if she eroded away with time and if i might find her sediments still somewhere, being tossed around in the waves of my mind. if she was startled from that dreaminess when the alarm clock woke her because she was only a dream, if she ever felt tired enough to go back to her old self. sometimes i wonder if she died, if i missed her funeral, if she even had a funeral (and if she did, who would go? she didn't have any friends), if her body is still rotting somewhere in the cracks on my skull. because that's where she's fallen—in the cracks. i think about her too often. I am too caught up in the past and future, i don't even recognize the present when it's staring back at me in the mirror. the words have left me. i am so lonely without them. i am so lonely without her. i write her obituary over and over in my head but none of the words sound right. she was great, she was awesome, she was more than that. she was a dreamer, an artist, she was more than that. she had thrown her head into the sky and rejoiced to see it floating amongst the clouds. no, she was more than that. still more than that. because i miss her. i really ******* miss her. i've said this to myself so many times they're carved into my skull, tatooed onto my lips, blackened my teeth with their ink. i've said it so many times but it doesn't bring her back. i miss her more but that doesn't bring her back either. i should use my time resourcefully and try to find myself while she's gone but i'm nothing without her. without her i'm just a headless body navigating the streets of newyorkcity at 3a.m. i get lost when i'm alone and i can't stand it. i am a simile without the adjective, just two nouns that don't know what to do with each other. i am getting lost now, writing this.
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Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 11:05 PM UTC
some random thought i wrote on a yellow post-it in the middle of the night as i squinted through the darkness and tried to make sense of these words and is this even a poem?
sometimes i wonder where she went, that girl. who used to love to dream and read and write and draw, who was so passionate. i wonder why she isn't here with me now, where she went, if she went anywhere at all. if she eroded away with time and if i might find her sediments still somewhere, being tossed around in the waves of my mind. if she was startled from that dreaminess when the alarm clock woke her because she was only a dream, if she ever felt tired enough to go back to her old self. sometimes i wonder if she died, if i missed her funeral, if she even had a funeral (and if she did, who would go? she didn't have any friends), if her body is still rotting somewhere in the cracks on my skull. because that's where she's fallen—in the cracks. i think about her too often. I am too caught up in the past and future, i don't even recognize the present when it's staring back at me in the mirror. the words have left me. i am so lonely without them. i am so lonely without her. i write her obituary over and over in my head but none of the words sound right. she was great, she was awesome, she was more than that. she was a dreamer, an artist, she was more than that. she had thrown her head into the sky and rejoiced to see it floating amongst the clouds. no, she was more than that. still more than that. because i miss her. i really ******* miss her. i've said this to myself so many times they're carved into my skull, tatooed onto my lips, blackened my teeth with their ink. i've said it so many times but it doesn't bring her back. i miss her more but that doesn't bring her back either. i should use my time resourcefully and try to find myself while she's gone but i'm nothing without her. without her i'm just a headless body navigating the streets of newyorkcity at 3a.m. i get lost when i'm alone and i can't stand it. i am a simile without the adjective, just two nouns that don't know what to do with each other. i am getting lost now, writing this.
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There was a glorious mix In 2006 When King Xerxes started ******* with Gerard Butler By sending his empire’s army Until that one dude threw a spear like Jay Cutler Xerxes cheek he was harming You want land and water? You better stop talking **** Before Gerard Butler kicks you down the big *** pit That’s in the middle of our city with no hand rails Because we believe that caution is where man fails Gerard Butler will beat all the ***** Of the Persian masses In a narrow passage They needed help To protect themself The Arcadians are total ******* But they make a fine mess of things So they caught the immortals looking For a Spartan death sting There’s an obese guy with swords for arms He doesn’t mean anything to the plot His fellow soldiers are the only ones he harms He’s just an interesting thought Gerard Butler wouldn’t let that ugly ****** in his squad Because he was so flawed So he pulled a lever and his ties were severed So the Persians would be better May that ******* live forever They proved a god king could bleed And screenwriters don’t history read Because that **** is for Athenians Who like to focus on dreaminess And not being badass Or wearing dope masks So thank you Zack Snyder After blunt met black lighter My eyes got smacked wider In a land where abs are tighter
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Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 10:48 AM UTC
300
( ) • • ) ( It's a war out there I'm sure you know •• In lovers' beds The tenderest embraces of child - like dreaminess Our mutual sense of human salvation Our familiarity With all the reasons we are together •• These start to fade As we are called into sacredness And understanding •• The unborn child whose world is seed The little kid who has watched His own brother die On the street WHAT ARE WE DOING ? ( yes ! What are we ? ) •• Gentleness /// What are we to do ? ( gentle song ) AS WE TRANSFORM UNTO SAINTLINESS we pick our love up From the bed We gird our ***** And ........ ? Become real We gird our ***** As we must dear friends
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Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
The fat lady is singing
I was enveloped in the dopeness Of his striking good looks His raw, glowing machismo Treasuring the unparalleled appeal Of his enamoring existence He made my heart soar With his alluringly glorious charmingness Lifted me into a dreamlike state As my gay world lingered In his sensational embrace He was a truly delightful adventure To savor for eternity His chiseled chest and abs Were utterly breathtaking I loved his sensual, commanding lips His fresh ****** hair His dark-honeyed eyes His velvety, fresh-smelling hair I meandered through the labyrinth Of his enchanting dreaminess Revering his sweetness and supremeness Everything about him From head to toe
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Mar 31, 2025
Mar 31, 2025 at 12:21 PM UTC
He Made My Heart Soar
*sounds of silence seeping through the shutters i am sheltered by your blessings uncover the direction you are leaning into inspect the floor and dust off the furniture daily activities fit for a human being i seethe with anger at tigers who are guilty of counting with their paws streams of discomfort split through the surroundings factions of opposition with opposite resistances defiant and undigested like lightning they swallow the sky and out comes the morning drunken in its radiance as a purple amphibian waves you goodbye move out of the way of the daylight you are blocking the rays from falling on my face a futuristic landscape awaits you savoring the sounds and sights return to the immediate sensations as perception always wavers and unremarkably favors the unforeseen serenity and dreaminess of yesterday these soporific sanguines add sulfur to the saline pools while you insist on talking cold turkey our addictions are absolute distractions operating under the radar of our minds i am thinking about everything you said how you wished that you were somewhere else with your soul strung out upon a ledge a watchful eye inspects the beautiful bodies an embarrassing moment a kiss concealed a solid hour wasted serving all the shields a solid longing liberated by touch a purposeful warning about drinking too much a crush on your babysitter or a stranger in the raw words are in favor so please come and let your heart soar through clouds of blueberry pie representations of our libido and dreams about spies gardening in the winter time breaking through the earth a tiny tomato is tomorrow’s food tempered by the truth the hard earth and snow the water and the fire combine down below to remove the covers of the canvas the watering cans the sacks of diamonds wrapped in burlap your soul is just as hard and frozen like **** cherries i bake them in the oven a hundred degrees below you are straight outta Compton and away we must go i long to touch your darkness in romance and repose a willing participant in the storm below please ready yourself for diving into waters of your mind a poisonous fungi foraged in the wood and so now where shall we grow*
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May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 3:50 PM UTC
trance-and-dental work
*sounds of silence seeping through the shutters i am sheltered by your blessings uncover the direction you are leaning into inspect the floor and dust off the furniture daily activities fit for a human being i seethe with anger at tigers who are guilty of counting with their paws streams of discomfort split through the surroundings factions of opposition with opposite resistances defiant and undigested like lightning they swallow the sky and out comes the morning drunken in its radiance as a purple amphibian waves you goodbye move out of the way of the daylight you are blocking the rays from falling on my face a futuristic landscape awaits you savoring the sounds and sights return to the immediate sensations as perception always wavers and unremarkably favors the unforeseen serenity and dreaminess of yesterday these soporific sanguines add sulfur to the saline pools while you insist on talking cold turkey our addictions are absolute distractions operating under the radar of our minds i am thinking about everything you said how you wished that you were somewhere else with your soul strung out upon a ledge a watchful eye inspects the beautiful bodies an embarrassing moment a kiss concealed a solid hour wasted serving all the shields a solid longing liberated by touch a purposeful warning about drinking too much a crush on your babysitter or a stranger in the raw words are in favor so please come and let your heart soar through clouds of blueberry pie representations of our libido and dreams about spies gardening in the winter time breaking through the earth a tiny tomato is tomorrow’s food tempered by the truth the hard earth and snow the water and the fire combine down below to remove the covers of the canvas the watering cans the sacks of diamonds wrapped in burlap your soul is just as hard and frozen like **** cherries i bake them in the oven a hundred degrees below you are straight outta Compton and away we must go i long to touch your darkness in romance and repose a willing participant in the storm below please ready yourself for diving into waters of your mind a poisonous fungi foraged in the wood and so now where shall we grow*
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76
The ripples broke the moon into pieces But her wishes elsewhere sniffed the air. The night was fair enough though To bathe in her beauty she wasn’t there. Where broke the ripples the moon’s face Reflected the water the firmament She searched in dreaminess Commotion of the slightest movement. One small fish would satiate her night!
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Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC
Her Night
He is an extraordinarily gorgeous and sparkling portrait Brilliant, rich, vivid, and intriguing Fiery, virile, insightful, and poetically intense dreaminess Ardent, evocative, and heartachingly enthralling Lurid four-star heart-throb His strikingness is fixed in my mind His magical swagtastic attraction is A smashing high-fashion gallery Bursting at the seams With unequivocal irresistible bewitchment I am tremendously transfixed on his freshalicious majestic thugness
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Jul 26, 2022
Jul 26, 2022 at 9:31 AM UTC
Lurid Four-Star Heart-Throb
you don't know me did you used to? oh oh my god why aren't i sure? i'm not sure i'm not i'm not i'm not oh god oh god who are you? stick with me here i'm just i'm trying to remember the talks we had in my driveway the texts you sent me from airports that made my heart glow should i list these things to help myself? your eyes, my hair funny looks when you'd stare at me after saying something dumb before we started laughing and i thought how good we were together i thought how good we were like that i'm trying i am i am but loneliness has skimmed the dreaminess from the top of my head and left me instead with a vision so broad i can't find the tunnel to you and now my hands won't stop shaking and my breath feels all floaty as if even as i breathe slowly nothing's happening at all i don't remember who you are i miss you but i don't i miss who you were and i know about change and time and hearts i know that sometimes people grow apart i'm not a child but i was such a short time ago and so were you so where's the damage at? i'm scared, love did i know you then? do you know me now? and was the person i am now hidden inside the child i was? and if so, did you only know the mask i wore or did i let you see my face? please help, i guess i didn't realize how terribly alone we really are
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Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 11:49 PM UTC
don't you know me?
His rich, mellifluous smoothness is Exceedingly sweet, slick, and poetic Pure, perennial, and ethereal His distinctly delectable smell Lingers ever so seamlessly On my magnificent delicate neck In the warm solacing Saturday morning I take immaculate satisfaction In the brightness and delightfulness Of his metallic masculine flesh Coalescing with my soft, pleasant flesh I am highly mesmerized by His gleaming essential dreaminess How he arouses my inner world Sketches his infinitely alluring art On the fresh heavenly pages Of my beating heart
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May 14, 2022
May 14, 2022 at 6:05 PM UTC
Warm Solacing Saturday Morning