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Azaria Sep 2018
you move me
the way
music moves you
the vibrations
on the chords
of  your guitar
tell me how
your day went:
spilled lemonade
on your favorite sweatshirt
and 3 bonus points
on a clicker quiz
i'm not caught
in the essence of firsts
like 30 extra minutes
to kiss you in
real time
your dark features and
unfaltering movements
evolve like
the sounds of me loving
you
composed of your stiff-fingered
electricity and a continuation
of all the good
things
Silent Moon Dec 2018
Osama
Your name slowly reminds me of the ocean
Each wave comes crashing in
The rhythm escapes from my lips
A repeated breath in your ear
Over & Over
Again
You have the sun
I have the moon
A solar eclipse destined to meet
Looking down below
Driving
Endlessly long roads
Along wind escaping from your hair
Melodies dancing into our ears
Smiles from ear to ear
Electricity falling like snow
My fingertips against your lips
Whispering your name
Very slow
I close my eyes
With your head tucked into mine
Barbed wires sparking to feel alive
Colliding universes just in time
Your hand in mine
Our souls intertwining
In this so called life
We have been running
Throughout our past lives
Forever & Always
Will live on this time.
I love you
I love you
I love you
I could whisper that in your ear
Over & over again
mariamme Mar 2018
rainstorms steep
like tea leaves in boiling water
the clouds growing fat on
electricity and water vapour until
they can no longer expand
and the fragrance explodes
amorphous and yet
harsh, driving shards of
H₂O through the warmth
of sweaters stuffed by
bodies nourished
by the rain not as
gentle as scented steam
from a cup of steeped leaves
but just as incensed
was told to write about storms, and of course, I wrote about tea instead. but it turned out okay.
Annelise Camille May 2017
Every inch of my body is screaming, blazed with fire
There's lightning between my shoulder blades
Rain dripping from my dewy greens
And electricity weaving between my tendons

There is a chainsaw cutting my bones
There are needles piercing through my chest
There is lava rushing through my veins
There is a hurricane in my head

I can feel my cells shrinking
I can feel my branches breaking
I can feel my leaves crumbling

Everything hurts and there is no remedy
This is the life of inevitable misery
oh, how you shine

ten billion stars
all in your two eyes
when I reach for you
it's zero gravity
nerves like electricity
what covers me, is
ten billion stars tingling
i can feel nothing else
entangling yourself to me
ten billion stars
have shown me
enlightment
oh how i want to love
each and every atom
of every dead star
remember every birth
ten billion is a lot
but here, in this moment
i can taste your worth
I wrote this listening to Day One by Lights and that song feels like *** in the middle of space
Robert G Page Dec 2015
A Christmas Thought (short story)
by
rgpage

This time of the year,  when once giving from the heart has since melted like the snow in Spring to the meaningless demand for expensive toys and gadgets;  and Santa has waned to no more than the all-giving sugar daddy to each and every child,  and a tireless crutch to the mindless parent during the year; “Santa’s watching so you’d better be good.”

And alas,  there I stood in this huge department store amid a vast forest of toys, colors, and noises, fallen prey to this modern day hypocrisy known as Christmas.  Being of a lower middle economical standard,  and having with such stealth blindness juggled expenses and bills to afford myself the opportunity to plunge even deeper into dept.  I pondered these playful wonders of modern day technology.  All about countless numbers of people were doing as I in efforts to reward their children for their year of good service.

This was when I saw her. As fast as this seasonal frenzy had overtaken me just days earlier,  it vanished for a time as I watched her. It must have been that she seemed so out of place in this hurry-scurry festive scene of Christmas shopping that she caught my eye.  She was very old and her tattered,  worn out clothing all too obviously reflected the fact that she couldn’t afford much.  While others struggled about her almost comically laden with brightly colored  packages, this old woman had nothing more than an old purse dangling from her arm.  Slowly she moved, seemingly pained with the infirmities which accompany old age.  She appeared overweight for her stature which I’m sure added to her discomfort.  When she stopped in front of the doll section  her old, pudgy face glowed with joy.  Undoubtedly a doll for a little granddaughter,  I was  sure no more as she couldn’t possibly afford more.  I watched as she studied each doll
and its price tag,  going from one to the next.  Finally she stopped to give particular attention to one little doll adorned with colorful ribbons and big bright blue eyes.  Then putting the doll back,  she opened her purse and I watched as she counted the small amount of money that she had.  

By this time I had become so unexplainably absorbed with watching the old woman,  who with a smile closed her purse, retrieved the doll and walked slowly and painfully to the checkout counter to wait in line.  Around her the noise of parents and children alike waiting their turn to check out didn’t seem to bother her as she patiently waited, holding the precious little doll for an equally precious granddaughter.  Finally when her turn came, an all to cruel yet human trait appeared in not only the people waiting behind her but the checkout clerk as well. Their impatience to maintain a steady flow of human traffic through the turnstiles came to the forefront almost obliterating this seasonal spirit.  This didn’t seem to deter the old woman from slowly and surely counting out the correct change,  leaving her very little to return to her purse.

With this done and the doll tucked away in a shopping sack,  she proceeded through the large glass doors and out into the cold December night.  A passing thought, “one special gift for one special person,” went through my mind as I continued my own, now more selective tour of annual duty.  Looking over my shoulder for one last glimpse of the old woman, I suddenly felt as if struck by a jolt of electricity as I saw her on her back in the slushy snow, struggling like an over-turned turtle.

Bolting out the door hoping to be the first to reach her,  I almost found myself lying next to her on the slick sidewalk.  Nothing was said as I struggled to lift her up.  Once this was accomplished I asked her if she was alright.  Instead of answering  she started looking around for her package.  I spotted the torn, soaked paper sack some ten feet away in a slushy puddle and went to retrieve it.  The doll had come half way out of the sack and her little blonde curls were now filled with water and slush; and as I handed it back I searched the old woman’s face for even a trace of sadness, there was none. Instead she looked at me smiled and said, “thank you young man, it’ll dry out, it’ll be alright, Merry Christmas.”  Then holding the doll in both hands, she turned and went on her way, much slower and much more cautiously.  I just stood there and watched her until she finally disappeared in the crowd and darkness and thought to myself, “maybe Santa Claus isn’t a man after all.”
Aaron Combs Apr 2015
I remember the garden
where we lived, it was
of such magnificence and awe.
The Charlotte roses filled the wild,
peace was uncaged, unbroken,
and the dragons and doves flew together,

And the thousand horses ran free.
and the thousand horses ran free.

I notice resting inside your eyes
and heart hasn't been so hard. Wrestling for you,
holding you,
like a child, it hasn't
been so different.

I'm taking you back there, Eve
into the Land of Eden,
just drink of my lips
a little longer and you'll remember
and see.

Do you like to dance, Eve?
Let me make your imagination full
Then let me bring it to war as  we step
into it's gates.

Let’s Dance.

For the wind of the evening
still weaves dreams between
the heavens and the earth.
There. Look.

For your heart outshines the moon, I see the hurt, the regret
The pain in the pool of you precious eyes.
And I still see you, I still love you
For you.

I hear the rhythm of your breath
and dreams, the electricity and earth
of your voice. I see the blood written
words in your heart, let me show you what
they are.

Now see the memories come
together, as you believe.

The endless garden,
the red cedars,
the cool four rivers crashing
near the rock, where we once slept.  

And look, where we hid.

See, like I promised you, we are here again,
we are here.

Where the petals sip the dew upon
the face of the earth.
where the rain and the moonlight has
not fallen.

Now look at the stars, Eve. Everyone of those stars
are named, the star of Orion, the Bear,
and Leo, everyone of them.

Everyone of them will fall
                            Everyone of them,
                            Everyone of them.

So don't be afraid in your pain
in your feelings,
just come to me.

For you can take my hand,
and be safe in my arms of
love. Even when it all falls.
Even when it all comes crashing down.

Just  
   Trust me.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx­xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

200 votes?

100 comments?
My 6th Poem. May it bless you all.
harlee kae Apr 2014
I should have known that when I fell in love with someone that made every sunset more
beautiful, and every smile more heartfelt, and every bird chirp the sweetest melody,
I should have known when I fell in love with a girl like her,
that someone else would too.  
Someone else would feel the electricity when she enters a room,
and someone else would notice the baby hair
that flies around her head like a halo.
I should have known someone else would see the freckle in her eye
and the burn on her chest
and marvel at their beauty.  
I thought I was the only one she made beautiful sunsets for,
until I found out that I wasn't. 
And I realized my mistake.
Iz Aug 2017
veins surge with static, eagerly pushing electricity through my blood like volts of frictionless energy
excitement flushes my pupils and they dilate as my lungs fill to breathe you in; an agonizingly controlled, but undeniably elated sense of euphoria at the slightest of touches
your jokes are accompanied by entirely too-perfectly-timed wit, and a lack of indication of sarcasm; I am flustered and yet flushed with happiness; a sweet conflict: self conscious with childlike glee.
you asked me to meet you at the top of the parking garage where you go to take pictures and watch fireworks; the thought makes my hands sweat and my head dizzy, the adrenaline of the height and the people buzzing below us and my hair in the wind and your face and those eyes.
Those ******* eyes that insist on making my thoughts their home.
Johnnie Woods Aug 2018
There are five widely known senses.
Sight, hearing, touch, smell and taste.
We've got some minor ones as well, such as balance, temperature and many more.
However, people fail to realise that there's also the sixth major sense. Thoughts themselves.

   If we look closely, all these five senses have the same base. Specified cells in eye react to energy of light, cells of ear recieve energy in form of air's vibrations, skin cells pick up energy of mechanical changes, and so tasting and hearing depend on translation of certain substances' chemical energy.
   These cells in different organs differ in their structure and the way they appear, however, if we stop looking at them in such small scale, we can see that ALL of the cells or organs responsible for any sense translate the energy.
   So, a light enters the eye, certain wavelenght of certain energy stimulates the eye's rod or cone cells with a certain intensity. Then the energy of light is translated to energy of electrical impulse, which goes straight to the brain, creating the sensation of sight.
   If it comes to smell, a certain particle enters the nose, binds to a smell receptor cell, and the chemical energy of this particle is, again, translated to energy of electrical impulse, which goes straight to the brain, creating the sensation of smell.

   Now, let's move to the crucial part. The sense of thoughts.
   During the creation of thought, pathways in our brain that collect memories(and many more known or unknown pathways) connect. First, there's this spark of electricity, that moves all along the neuron and releases a dose of neurotransmitters(amount of different NTs is equiavlent to strength of this spark, basically resulting in "creating" various thoughts).
Then, chemical energy of NEUROTRANSMITTER is translated to energy of electrical impulse, which happens in the brain, creating the sensation of thought.
   Therefore the 'sense of thoughts' reacts to and is stimulated by neurotransmitters themselves, with receptors on neurons' membrane being receptors of the stimulus. So, kind of like smell, the stimulus is chemical, compared to sight, where it's electromagnetic wave; anyways the result in all of these is electric impulse in neurons (hence the idea of "thoughts" as a sense, due to the same basic layout; transfer of energy).
   The 'smell particle' connects to receptor and is translated to a certain amount of neurotransmitters/certain strenght of neuronal impulse. SO, again, we can see that when the first outer layer of this communication is cut off, we're left only with the neurotransmitters and impulses themselves. Anyway, the transduction of energy remains.

   If it comes to "sense of thoughts" the receptor lies within us, whereas in sight or smell or touch it's external. However, does it matter if it's on the surface of skin or under it if it all comes down to neurons of our brain?
   When you lie in a dark, silent room, without any external stimuli, you still retain your thoughts, colorful, vivid or complex. All the magic of the brain - still happens. So, how isn't it a separate, full-fledged sense?
xiixxxcix Mar 2015
when I was twelve, my sister whispered in my ear in a stuffy August church service.
"you'll know when they come along", she said, "fireflies will flicker behind your weary eyes."
that never prepared me for you.

you weren't a flicker. you taught me to see nothing but light. you taught me that no matter how quickly the flames transition to embers, the embers still burn the brightest. when the electricity went out, you were there to light the candles. and when the wicks burnt down, and there were no more matches to light, you didn't abandon me in the darkness. instead, you showed me the sun.

nothing, not even the sun, could ever radiate light any brighter than your eyes. nothing is comparable to the laugh that sets my stomach on fire. the sadness burns my throat, but you make the stars shine, and I swear to god I speak of you like you put them in the sky.
People of the heart>word>book>screen>
The digital streams scroll before us
Form, electricity, ai
Form, energy, intelligence,
biomimicry, they cried

(Is consciousness the code/key we seek?)

What do we do with our silence
In a world populated by sound
Are we bound to making noises
Or should we liberate our voices
By refusing to participate at all
Michael Marchese Oct 2018
Seems like something's dying
In here
I can smell it
Could be the two mice that I killed
No regret it
In here there is room
For but one vermin's need
To feed freely on misery
That rat is me

Utterly, absolutely,
Completely alone
Learning how to make
This dimly lit cavern home
Which is seldom if ever
Enough to appease
Electricity greed
In the shadows I breed
So illumined is my
Filthy rodent disease
And so clearly they see
The rat
Is in fact,
Me
Sasha Raven Apr 11
Have You ever heard about the JSEcoin,
I am inviting You in Their team — to join!
It will fly, very fast, straight to The Moon,
so create an account today, or very soon ...
It is a cryptocurrency and very easy to mine,
in the nearest future, it will shine, shine, shine!
You wonder, maybe You are so confused?
I was too, doubted, but now I am amused!
And, all my words have not been spoken,
on the net, read more about the JSEcoin token!
It uses small amounts of electricity — CPU power,
JSEcoin seems to me, like a mighty tower!
badtaste May 6
~
-Prologue-
god thinks I've ran away
perhaps I've been lost all these days

but I don't deserve paradise
can't even count all my alibis
and here she lies in a story which we all shall begin
of tragedy and victory of passion and sin

~
all the petty past jealously
wasting your pretty present time with me
are you ready to turn and go the other way?
I wanted to wast alone
soon I wanted to live with you
I'm alive and all the music sounds so much better
I even can cry when I watch things die in dead of winter
when are skin touches it feels like our first hit of electricity
more than a brush or a rush of newly past memories
it seems we cannot hush our passion or bliss
when we've been longing for so long our very first kiss
is it wrong to sing a song about running away from time with you
dancing like it's prom dying in your arms
saying my last true words
"I love you."
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