Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"elysium" poems
Water nymph, you are the gentle wind  Bursting the daisy, your eyes, are bells  Of blue echinacea spiriting the light— Echoing sound which water makes, ring The laureled forest leaves in cathedrals Newly sprung of pews, meadows, spark, The dance of bees, who trace your honey Scent in combs of ambrosia and sunshine. The miraculous waters are floored under  Your white, lily petals of feet, your nests Of hair are embracing tendrils of the wild  Grape, wine and sweet, long forgetfulness. Maid of the wood, daughter to the moon; Are you of Elysium or temptress of doom?
0
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 8:30 PM UTC
Maid of Moon and Glade
Your face, Tender, round and dimpled, Framed with gilded, carved, tawny curled Whirlpools of hair, long, lighted, and sparkling, Your face is the face— Of Ireland. Your lips, Full, moist and deathly deep, Are wells, not well for me, not safe, taboo, Tantric, tall told tales of brave Odysseus Under Circe's alchemies Of forgetfulness. Your ***** The zenith of blossom in fabled Elysium, gateway to the forbidden gardens Of sage and sinners, warrior-poets, Aphrodite's Envy, Poseidon's drowning And smoldering Zeus.
0
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 10:58 PM UTC
The Face of Ireland
Souls of Poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? Have ye tippled drink more fine Than mine host's Canary wine? Or are fruits of Paradise Sweeter than those dainty pies Of venison? O generous food! Drest as though bold Robin Hood Would, with his maid Marian, Sup and bowse from horn and can. I have heard that on a day Mine host's sign-board flew away, Nobody knew whither, till An astrologer's old quill To a sheepskin gave the story, Said he saw you in your glory, Underneath a new old sign Sipping beverage divine, And pledging with contented smack The Mermaid in the Zodiac. Souls of Poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?
0
4.4k
Lines On The Mermaid Tavern
_las mujeres nacen de la tierra en la gloria de la más alta_ dys·to·pi·an/disˈtōpēən/adjective: dystopian:                                relating to or denoting an imagined place                    or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad,       typically a totalitarian or environmentally degraded one;                _"the dystopian future of a society bereft of reason"_ noun: dystopian;                                plural noun: dystopians: a person who advocates or describes an imagined place or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad; "a lot of things those dystopians feared did not come true" [A dystopia from the Greek δυσ- "bad" & τόπος "place"; alternatively, _cacotopia, kakotopia_], or simply anti-utopia;      a community or society that is undesirable or frightening;  It is translated as "not-good place" &     is an antonym of utopia,                       a term coined by Sir Thomas More par·a·dise/ˈperəˌdīs/noun noun: paradise;                  plural noun: paradises in some religions; heaven as the ultimate abode of the just, heaven, the kingdom of heaven, the heavenly kingdom, Elysium, the Elysian Fields, Valhalla, Avalon;                                   "the souls in paradise" the abode of Adam and Eve before the Fall in the biblical account of Creation; the Garden of Eden/noun: Paradise, Eden "Adam and Eve's expulsion from Paradise" an ideal or idyllic place or State; "the surrounding countryside is a streetwalker's paradise" Utopia, Shangri-La, heaven, idyll, nirvana;                                                            "a tropical paradise"   bliss, heaven, ecstasy, delight, joy, happiness, nirvana, heaven on earth                  _a ********** who seeks customers on the street_                                        "this is sheer paradise!" Middle English:     from Old French paradis, via ecclesiastical Latin from Greek paradeisos ‘enclosed royal park,’       from Avestan pairidaēza ‘enclosure, park.’                                                                  _Superficies terræ puella_
0
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 2:28 PM UTC
dystopian paradise [& streetwalkers]
_las mujeres nacen de la tierra en la gloria de la más alta_ dys·to·pi·an/disˈtōpēən/adjective: dystopian:                                relating to or denoting an imagined place                    or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad,       typically a totalitarian or environmentally degraded one;                _"the dystopian future of a society bereft of reason"_ noun: dystopian;                                plural noun: dystopians: a person who advocates or describes an imagined place or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad; "a lot of things those dystopians feared did not come true" [A dystopia from the Greek δυσ- "bad" & τόπος "place"; alternatively, _cacotopia, kakotopia_], or simply anti-utopia;      a community or society that is undesirable or frightening;  It is translated as "not-good place" &     is an antonym of utopia,                       a term coined by Sir Thomas More par·a·dise/ˈperəˌdīs/noun noun: paradise;                  plural noun: paradises in some religions; heaven as the ultimate abode of the just, heaven, the kingdom of heaven, the heavenly kingdom, Elysium, the Elysian Fields, Valhalla, Avalon;                                   "the souls in paradise" the abode of Adam and Eve before the Fall in the biblical account of Creation; the Garden of Eden/noun: Paradise, Eden "Adam and Eve's expulsion from Paradise" an ideal or idyllic place or State; "the surrounding countryside is a streetwalker's paradise" Utopia, Shangri-La, heaven, idyll, nirvana;                                                            "a tropical paradise"   bliss, heaven, ecstasy, delight, joy, happiness, nirvana, heaven on earth                  _a ********** who seeks customers on the street_                                        "this is sheer paradise!" Middle English:     from Old French paradis, via ecclesiastical Latin from Greek paradeisos ‘enclosed royal park,’       from Avestan pairidaēza ‘enclosure, park.’                                                                  _Superficies terræ puella_
Continue reading...
39
Dancing to the rhythm of the universe, A beautiful, organic chaos. Grateful for the lessons, I drift in a pool of elysium. A wounded healer in progress, Prancing on a satin thread, Woven with multidimensional facets. Allow me to amend the social poison Flowing within this boundless vessel.
0
May 17, 2023
May 17, 2023 at 2:46 AM UTC
Dancing to the rhythm of this universe
By Arcassin B , wolf , & soul AB : staring at the lady in the corner wearing make-up, Selling flowers to earn money For her son's college fund, Take three patterns then reverse it, Bring them back to reality, The way people maintain jobs nowadays It isn't fun, But a.. ..it takes a rose to help Cure the pain of whats to gain and What you've lost, To find a way to piece together a suffering flaws, SS : /////Electric rose In all your neon splendor I touch you and remember No more I ***** my thumb Upon your thorn And in death I am reborn I gaze rapt into your night I am drawn into the light Rose of Sharon, petals soft Blood red dreams sent aloft To your power I will yield 'Til I look once more On heaven's fields,///// WS : in fields of Elysium await with gentle memories and flowers of every hue reaching into forever from that street corner in modern blight where a mother's love was the noblest fight and she would give her all for one that worthy offspring, her beloved son tarry ye not, on that dreadful shore pennies for Charon to ferry Styx close thy eyes and weep no more there's nothing that true love may not fix, SS : /////Electric rose In all your neon splendor I touch you and remember No more I ***** my thumb Upon your thorn And in death I am reborn I gaze rapt into your night I am drawn into the light Rose of Sharon, petals soft Blood red dreams sent aloft To your power I will yield 'Til I look once more On heaven's fields,///////
0
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC
Wolfspirit & Arcassin B - Electric Roses (ft. soulsurvivor)
*Cimmerian Chaos, incediary The Requiem of the Revenant: Tis I, The Breathing Song Conjuring a vestige, Ensorcelled by what I'd been envisaging. Maimed by Tempus, The Temporal Arbiter Words reverberating on the wavelength of my soul Left me vibrating desolate and wayworn. Utterances deluging me in the Dominion of Doubt Until I reached a crossroads For perilous was the pilgrimage I peregrinated. The Penultimate Tribulation has begun And though angst is festering in my flesh, The Sacred Lotus of Dreams has not wilted, Shalt it ever upon the Lake of the Holy Oracle; Elysium of the Soul is awaiting those who are stalwart In the Visage of the Shadows.* ∞Hallelujah∞ By Sanders M. Foulke III
0
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 5:32 AM UTC
The Requiem of the Revenant (Originally Penned in July of 2017)
Symphony No.9 in d – minor, opus 125 Allegro ma non troppo The silence gives way gently to quiet tremolos rustling beneath the beckoning call of distant horns. A melodic cell, nascent in violins, spirals down to the somber depths of cello and contrabass. A sudden cataclysm shakes the hall like thunder heralding our universal birth. Gales of sonic force splashed like turbulent waves against the rocky shores. Drifting sans glass or sextant on a sea of expanding mystery, we gaze to the heavens in hopes for a glimpse of our father’s aetherial dwelling. Molto vivace With hands intertwined, we dance in a ring to the capricious airs of the laughing gods with Zeus himself on timpani. So pass the wine and kiss your neighbor and fill your glass to the brim! For today is yesterday’s morrow and tomorrow’s history. Adagio molto e cantabile There is no greater and more healing light than the candles that shine in the eyes of a friend or loving spouse -   tenderly lighting our paths through the storms and fogs that cloud our lives. Peace abides in a friend's embrace. An die Freude Against raging storms of strife and sorrow. we hear a healing voice A calm cello hymn - that migrates up to higher cords of violas and violins - breaking into joyous song sung by trumpets, winds and drums. Casting all shrillness of discord aside, a baritone lines out Schiller’s ode - and sings of Elysium’s daughter.   Quartet and chorus enter in proclaiming hope for the human family, A tenor raises a stein to valor in the company of his friends. The quiet pulsing of horns and winds ushers in torrents of ecstasy. Arms clasped in communal embrace, we gaze to heaven on bended knees then rise with a majestic fugue that illuminates our souls like a blazing Alpine dawn. In a cyclone of passion, Schiller's words and Beethoven's notes entreat us to restore what custom has rent apart that each of us may live our lives as brothers in heavenly sanctuary. May 25, 2007
0
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 1:33 PM UTC
Beethoven and Schiller
Symphony No.9 in d – minor, opus 125 Allegro ma non troppo The silence gives way gently to quiet tremolos rustling beneath the beckoning call of distant horns. A melodic cell, nascent in violins, spirals down to the somber depths of cello and contrabass. A sudden cataclysm shakes the hall like thunder heralding our universal birth. Gales of sonic force splashed like turbulent waves against the rocky shores. Drifting sans glass or sextant on a sea of expanding mystery, we gaze to the heavens in hopes for a glimpse of our father’s aetherial dwelling. Molto vivace With hands intertwined, we dance in a ring to the capricious airs of the laughing gods with Zeus himself on timpani. So pass the wine and kiss your neighbor and fill your glass to the brim! For today is yesterday’s morrow and tomorrow’s history. Adagio molto e cantabile There is no greater and more healing light than the candles that shine in the eyes of a friend or loving spouse -   tenderly lighting our paths through the storms and fogs that cloud our lives. Peace abides in a friend's embrace. An die Freude Against raging storms of strife and sorrow. we hear a healing voice A calm cello hymn - that migrates up to higher cords of violas and violins - breaking into joyous song sung by trumpets, winds and drums. Casting all shrillness of discord aside, a baritone lines out Schiller’s ode - and sings of Elysium’s daughter.   Quartet and chorus enter in proclaiming hope for the human family, A tenor raises a stein to valor in the company of his friends. The quiet pulsing of horns and winds ushers in torrents of ecstasy. Arms clasped in communal embrace, we gaze to heaven on bended knees then rise with a majestic fugue that illuminates our souls like a blazing Alpine dawn. In a cyclone of passion, Schiller's words and Beethoven's notes entreat us to restore what custom has rent apart that each of us may live our lives as brothers in heavenly sanctuary. May 25, 2007
Continue reading...
69
The lotus, I choose the lotus! The ebb and flow the shore it goads us Static focus, a layer peeled off and cast aside The tide it whispered it spoke to me but I turned I looked the other way Upwards roads and downwards roads Set the rock aside Sisyphus, Bear the weight no more Stare in lost, in vacant eyes at a boatless shore The lotus, I choose the lotus Wayward streams, down and around it floats us And spits us out, Our isolated Elysium or tortured chamber It’s a matter of where you spend your days, in or out On what you rest your eyes upon, The whirlwind, the spinning cannon Fates bolt it shoots us in twirling spiral And all along from the corner lit dim Float the soft tunes of a harpist, Deft fingers pluck the taught strings, And her eyes overcast, cloudy grey Stare vacantly out like person drowned The lotus, I choose the lotus! The sweet nectar it covers it soothes me Puzzled pieces glue me, paste me together Pluck me, toss me, say that I flew Let’s play who knows who Be honest who really knows you Reflection from the lake, a familiar face it greets me Whirlpool tides, how they rip they pull us Oh the lotus, give me the lotus!
0
Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 12:03 AM UTC
After many nights of careful consideration
**November 5, 2010 at 2:59 am {Inspired by Dr. Boshra 3agban, Nizzar Qabani} You're a woman; created from the Greek myths, wrapped in the veil of my fantasies, Reborn from all the phoenix ashes, You're the history of my life, miss; it bounds u not..no years no seas, you grant the moon those glaring flashes, So I never sleep at nights to see thy gypsy eyes, It's enough to write your name, Just to be the perfect poet, It's enough to be loved by thee, It is so enough for me, & I'll be mentioned in the history; As the man & the angel that met, At the horizon's end, On the edge of the dreams, You're a woman; Carved by an angel's hands, & made from the diamonds of verse, Veiled in the golden cloak of my dreams, A deity from some mystic lands, Glowing through my murky universe, Born from heaven's springs & streams, Your tidal dormant waves through me they arise, You're a woman; Greater than Aphrodite & Athena, You're the endless music of the lyre of pan, You're the gauzy clouds that may make spring a winter eve, Picturing you ..Tottering...is the ****** of me, Thy swift stalk...gazing at you; forever I span, arrayed in thy mantle of every hyacinth's leaf, That sings the odes of love in me heart they incise, You're a woman; Caring not for time or years, Neither aging nor death can touch thee, You're the eternal rose of all the nerieds, Knowing not no pains or fears, Thy treads' rhythm lurks through me, Your love's a religion, belief & a creed, & my prayers from now forth art thy drowsy sighs, It's enough to write your name, Just to be the perfect poet, It's enough to be loved by thee, It is so enough for me, & I'll be mentioned in the history; As the man & the angel that met, At the horizon's end, On the edge of the dreams, You're a woman; Drest in the Elysium stars, With pinions of an angel of life, Fretting on waters of rivers of Eden, Healing my feeble searing scars, Heaping my ardent fires that thrive, With dewy kisses That're unforgotten, I've never lived before...now I realize, You're a woman; Of wavy hair & wavy weather, Of blushy cheeks, like of the primrose, Nestling these lips gushing with love, I pledge my heart & soul for a feather, Of thy wing that flips & shows, Sublimity with that dimpled smile of a dove, That holds all the answers & whys... It's enough to write your name, Just to be the perfect poet, It's enough to be loved by thee, It is so enough for me, & I'll be mentioned in the history; As the man & the angel that met, At the horizon's end, On the edge of the dreams.... ******
0
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 2:53 AM UTC
You're A Woman...
**November 5, 2010 at 2:59 am {Inspired by Dr. Boshra 3agban, Nizzar Qabani} You're a woman; created from the Greek myths, wrapped in the veil of my fantasies, Reborn from all the phoenix ashes, You're the history of my life, miss; it bounds u not..no years no seas, you grant the moon those glaring flashes, So I never sleep at nights to see thy gypsy eyes, It's enough to write your name, Just to be the perfect poet, It's enough to be loved by thee, It is so enough for me, & I'll be mentioned in the history; As the man & the angel that met, At the horizon's end, On the edge of the dreams, You're a woman; Carved by an angel's hands, & made from the diamonds of verse, Veiled in the golden cloak of my dreams, A deity from some mystic lands, Glowing through my murky universe, Born from heaven's springs & streams, Your tidal dormant waves through me they arise, You're a woman; Greater than Aphrodite & Athena, You're the endless music of the lyre of pan, You're the gauzy clouds that may make spring a winter eve, Picturing you ..Tottering...is the ****** of me, Thy swift stalk...gazing at you; forever I span, arrayed in thy mantle of every hyacinth's leaf, That sings the odes of love in me heart they incise, You're a woman; Caring not for time or years, Neither aging nor death can touch thee, You're the eternal rose of all the nerieds, Knowing not no pains or fears, Thy treads' rhythm lurks through me, Your love's a religion, belief & a creed, & my prayers from now forth art thy drowsy sighs, It's enough to write your name, Just to be the perfect poet, It's enough to be loved by thee, It is so enough for me, & I'll be mentioned in the history; As the man & the angel that met, At the horizon's end, On the edge of the dreams, You're a woman; Drest in the Elysium stars, With pinions of an angel of life, Fretting on waters of rivers of Eden, Healing my feeble searing scars, Heaping my ardent fires that thrive, With dewy kisses That're unforgotten, I've never lived before...now I realize, You're a woman; Of wavy hair & wavy weather, Of blushy cheeks, like of the primrose, Nestling these lips gushing with love, I pledge my heart & soul for a feather, Of thy wing that flips & shows, Sublimity with that dimpled smile of a dove, That holds all the answers & whys... It's enough to write your name, Just to be the perfect poet, It's enough to be loved by thee, It is so enough for me, & I'll be mentioned in the history; As the man & the angel that met, At the horizon's end, On the edge of the dreams.... ******
Continue reading...
75
She's this insatiable urge gaining on me, like a herd of horses galloping in the treachery of the wild, their muscles brushed to a shine rippling down their calves to embrace the ground beneath their ironed hooves shaking it up, tormenting its calm, whipping up tremors that know no chains and travel far. When she's around dust and sweat break free with muscles aching in symphony the heart is all worked up like a boiler room in heat pummeling all of its adrenaline in one fleeting indulgence which the universe with all its hatcheries is itching to contain before the raging tides in and floods my world. She's the elusive horizon used to passionate chases and the sly azure lunging at it for one sweet glimpse of the cleavage where it conjoins with the earth looking for Elysium that never is. Ah! But that is what it is for the tamed to think of love is an impossibility for it grows in the wild separated by a hundred chasms and a million mazes waiting for a fool to cross over. When she isn't around the rumpled sheets tell our story for it has seen the storms that raged in the cavernous nights and filled up balmy noons with the savagery of love still crackling like embers of fire which have seen better days, and, light up still, with a death wish to tell of our smouldering lives that thrived in spasms of our last breath.
0
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 11:59 AM UTC
Consumed
How I fell down the stairs of Elysium was when I fell in love with her.
0
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
Fallen Hero
I'll drag you to hades to dwell with me In the garden of Persephone. We'll dine on her fruit so we shall be Lost in each other for eternity. Elysium shall hold no sway with us We'd rather watch the sufferings of Tantalus Souls crossing Acheron will provide Our music, a tortured lullaby Their lamentations won't put us to sleep Nor will their groanings cause us to weep But they'll fill us with fury rooted in lust We'll lie down on blood soaked fields the color of rust Then we'll journey through Asphodel As we travel back to our home in hell I with you and you with me In the garden of Persephone
0
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
In the Garden
Life It isn't a privilege Or some dort of miracle. It is a test. A test to see what you've done Who you are And what you deserve. Whether it's pain, joy O neither. Do you deserve to live among the shadows? Where the sun never shines but the clouds never darken - A world filled with emptiness. You are neither hero nor villan, Friend nor foe; You deserve nothing. Or have you killed? Wronged the Gods in one way or another? You deserve more than death To be filled with hunger, food and water always out of reach. To be live among fire, pain always present. You deserve endless torture. However If somehow you managed to live your life right Defending family Friends With everything you've got. You will continue to live on Forever. Your name and story passed down Forever. People will whisper your name for strength For help. You will wander the fields of Elysium Surrounded by endless beauty Blue lake, Green hills. You deseve more than can ever be given
0
Jan 31, 2011
Jan 31, 2011 at 2:36 PM UTC
Poem About Ancient Greek Life (1)
Celebration breaks a waterfall descends dewdrops of mirth twine to form theatrical strands diffusing mélanges of paradise ‘twas a triumphant day to have reigned
0
Apr 27, 2012
Apr 27, 2012 at 6:31 AM UTC
Elysium
Clashing lights from the shadows; Thundering in constant motion Red swarms overtaking the blue nights, A grand disturbance - Raging through the cosmos Shifting the course of this endless strife (Wake up now, We have misconstrued our fate) Spiraling forth, into nebulous unknown The force flows from within; Embrace the cause - To restore a balance lost aeons ago Gears turning towards a lie Deceived by peace Crucial moments for the light; Two tides collide Detrimental, Sacrifices, Interstellar transmutation Exiled till, the return of the progeny Remnants of the order Confined to, the corners of the galaxy Strengthened, by the chosen one Fallen hero; Exalts into gradeur Shining greater than the stars Universal luminescence Macrocosmic ~ As Above So Below Frequencies resonating, Constructing wretched Elysium Eternal cataclysm, Decimation A massive surge of power; Lost, following the stars of scripture Kingdoms falling one by one ~ NOVUS ORDO Symmetry unfolds Visions pass Fallacies expose Divine excursion Escape the stasis Elevate, frame of mind Amidst resistance; Ignite lucidity Harmony engulfs, This fractured existence
0
Dec 19, 2018
Dec 19, 2018 at 12:20 AM UTC
Nebulous Unknown
Heathens - in heaven's lobby flock to barter for Magic 'Shrooms with pop rocks... and pancakes and leaf-green brownies. new to the scene; the Son of Man holds a motley court, then wanders off to fetch Picasso - Lassoed from his cups, his Love that must Love his genius... doubtless, cloud-scrawling huge pendulous ******* in Elysium; for no one at all. better Pablo should tend bars      that set mobs free than one god's toddler, with long odds against Bacchus - should ever small-talk-speak to the godless or worse... preach. " Better Sins to love.. " The Spaniard once taught... A Lover's Urge is born in forms of weakness.... adorned in all Might - bathed in blessed contradiction, a Lingam for a Yoni's dream of stiff drinks and pliable men, with strong arms. a blue fiction  on Calvary - nailed to the softest cross. Between thieves, an honor, double parked with bucket seats brimming with moonlight, and her knickers tossed. Picasso asks for absinthe to be sent post haste and polished off - by all his better angels he had guillotined with dull snails, and fallen   harps ones -  he stole,  to de-tune a flat fifth of Cuttysark for a deaf ****  [but no mute ] a portrait, **** and is soon bought... lust sleeps then - with both Eyes;   Locked on One of God's. like a deer in a Head-light's Gospel... now, a Minotaur on the Autobahn - stalking it. II Heathens in heaven's lobby recite ' Howl ' as Ginsberg, walks over hot coals and spicy psalms; glowing wanton in white grass; with a very cherry **** And a wise throng, cobbles... ****** - they rob Peter of his  toga, leaving nothing wrong. but no less ' On ' they laugh hard;  and wake the dead asking  them for new songs to set    their false alarms in lofty Tic' Tocks   of Eternity's clock. Bible on a snooze bar for at least that long or  someone knocks. As if  "Hello."   Spoke the Whole World into Being - And " Goodbye." misspoke, and trailed off...
0
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 1:58 PM UTC
Heathens In Heaven [ Canto I ]
Heathens - in heaven's lobby flock to barter for Magic 'Shrooms with pop rocks... and pancakes and leaf-green brownies. new to the scene; the Son of Man holds a motley court, then wanders off to fetch Picasso - Lassoed from his cups, his Love that must Love his genius... doubtless, cloud-scrawling huge pendulous ******* in Elysium; for no one at all. better Pablo should tend bars      that set mobs free than one god's toddler, with long odds against Bacchus - should ever small-talk-speak to the godless or worse... preach. " Better Sins to love.. " The Spaniard once taught... A Lover's Urge is born in forms of weakness.... adorned in all Might - bathed in blessed contradiction, a Lingam for a Yoni's dream of stiff drinks and pliable men, with strong arms. a blue fiction  on Calvary - nailed to the softest cross. Between thieves, an honor, double parked with bucket seats brimming with moonlight, and her knickers tossed. Picasso asks for absinthe to be sent post haste and polished off - by all his better angels he had guillotined with dull snails, and fallen   harps ones -  he stole,  to de-tune a flat fifth of Cuttysark for a deaf ****  [but no mute ] a portrait, **** and is soon bought... lust sleeps then - with both Eyes;   Locked on One of God's. like a deer in a Head-light's Gospel... now, a Minotaur on the Autobahn - stalking it. II Heathens in heaven's lobby recite ' Howl ' as Ginsberg, walks over hot coals and spicy psalms; glowing wanton in white grass; with a very cherry **** And a wise throng, cobbles... ****** - they rob Peter of his  toga, leaving nothing wrong. but no less ' On ' they laugh hard;  and wake the dead asking  them for new songs to set    their false alarms in lofty Tic' Tocks   of Eternity's clock. Bible on a snooze bar for at least that long or  someone knocks. As if  "Hello."   Spoke the Whole World into Being - And " Goodbye." misspoke, and trailed off...
Continue reading...
98
satin slats plumped slick sepal pearls Elysium entreats welcoming warm
0
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 11:55 PM UTC
do come inside
High rises burst from soft Earth’s flesh Was it even ready for us? From an extraterrestrial’s perspective we’re a disease upon this gentle cerulean Elysium I’m living in the mouth of duality I hear it speak as I leave my block and give a peace sign to the abandoned residences in progress On the block I currently live, the sidewalk is cracked into drunken mazes and yet Directly across, the neighbors stand upon freshly minted asphalt and into a metropolitan construct made for the modern brain: built in amenities, contemporary textiles and garage parking Are we next? To be bought and sold, if so, can we at least have a plan for the residents? Will tenants be invited to the newborn paradise? We have the budget to feed cement trucks faster than hungry mouths. It’s become a bad habit yet I sit by the man-made imperfections hoping someone cares enough to drip their Eden into the palms of my neighbors If time will tell I’ve been getting quite the silent treatment Travel a little deeper and…. Cosmopolitan crossroads coexist with beggars and lost folk…. Since when was the speech divided between affluent and broke? "IDK?" The duality replies I thought you’d say that.
0
Aug 4, 2021
Aug 4, 2021 at 6:14 PM UTC
The Mouth of Duality
www.soundcloud.com/nethersky/elysium Have you ever wanted to end July Run away from the pain you hide You are not alone, I promise you, together we can say goodnight I will be all alone on the day that I leave this place You will be in my memory as I dance through the pearly gates Loving you was easy to do I watch you cry and wipe the tears from your face Loving you was easy to do I say goodbye and leave a warm embrace I lay in a field of flowers under a pedestal I don't know the day or the hour, you know, I've got to go Do I believe everything I see and hear I feel I'm stuck in limbo, and I pray the end is near So I wave goodbye to my friends and family Where I'm going, I promise I will be happier I see a rabbit walking with a squirrel into a forest with trees as white as pearls In comes a raccoon waving at his friends Welcome to a place where happiness will never end Can you feel me when I say that you are not alone I know you are listening to me, so join me and together We'll build a beautiful home, full of music and melody We'll dance into our tomb, together we will sing Loving you was easy to do I watch you cry and wipe the tears from your face Loving you was easy to do I say goodbye and leave a warm embrace As I lay on my bed, I looked to the sky, through the clouds inside my mind and I know that I think I rather be dreaming Have you ever wanted to end your life Run away from the pain you hide You are not alone, I promise you Together we can say goodnight
0
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 1:09 AM UTC
Fields of Elysium
www.soundcloud.com/nethersky/elysium Have you ever wanted to end July Run away from the pain you hide You are not alone, I promise you, together we can say goodnight I will be all alone on the day that I leave this place You will be in my memory as I dance through the pearly gates Loving you was easy to do I watch you cry and wipe the tears from your face Loving you was easy to do I say goodbye and leave a warm embrace I lay in a field of flowers under a pedestal I don't know the day or the hour, you know, I've got to go Do I believe everything I see and hear I feel I'm stuck in limbo, and I pray the end is near So I wave goodbye to my friends and family Where I'm going, I promise I will be happier I see a rabbit walking with a squirrel into a forest with trees as white as pearls In comes a raccoon waving at his friends Welcome to a place where happiness will never end Can you feel me when I say that you are not alone I know you are listening to me, so join me and together We'll build a beautiful home, full of music and melody We'll dance into our tomb, together we will sing Loving you was easy to do I watch you cry and wipe the tears from your face Loving you was easy to do I say goodbye and leave a warm embrace As I lay on my bed, I looked to the sky, through the clouds inside my mind and I know that I think I rather be dreaming Have you ever wanted to end your life Run away from the pain you hide You are not alone, I promise you Together we can say goodnight
Continue reading...
35
Maybe it was fate in the threads of that skirt as short as temper and temperance that ended the ellipsis breathing. A dancer needs an answer on life enhancers, dear romancer. Your smile was more than good enough. I drank of it, the cup of Christ that turned my blood into whining moments of insecurity. Call security, you say, making the call on what I am because I am transparent, transdimensional, traversing the bridge of your nose with my high-risk eyes. You say that I am, and they cry. As your hands ticked at your clock-click keyboard, I waited, passed the time wondering the difference between naive and navel. Harm came like rain in winter, the words of Zephyrus slipping from between those amber lips, lithe on naked fingertips. You take the names of gods in vain, into your veins, let them convert only the white blood cells. You'd crucify me for vanity. You accuse the recluse of abuse, and it suits you, tailored because hatred sized you up the moment you met. The orchestra disbanded, the buds of May have yet to burst, yet to blossom like you say you always will, but the spring in your step when you walk away from the last word tells me more than the chirping birds nesting in your hair. You remind me of Paris on the walls of Troy, thief of hearts and fool indeed. Bringer of fire, brander of hell, but only because you were already the Tartarus Employee of the Month and enjoying Elysium. This is the beautiful mystery undone as her clothes and naked as the day Rosemary Matron gave her to the world. This is the beautiful mystery returned to voids as tangled as her hair, the nonspace between the curls hiding secrets and conviction. This is the beautiful mystery concluded, all the movements of her symphonic body no longer to allure. This is the beautiful mystery answered, the riddle of the Sphinx leaping from the pillar, a killer not quite so strong as her eyes. This is the beautiful mystery laid to rest, buried alive in a life discarded. This is good-bye.
0
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 9:42 AM UTC
Beautiful Mystery Undone
Maybe it was fate in the threads of that skirt as short as temper and temperance that ended the ellipsis breathing. A dancer needs an answer on life enhancers, dear romancer. Your smile was more than good enough. I drank of it, the cup of Christ that turned my blood into whining moments of insecurity. Call security, you say, making the call on what I am because I am transparent, transdimensional, traversing the bridge of your nose with my high-risk eyes. You say that I am, and they cry. As your hands ticked at your clock-click keyboard, I waited, passed the time wondering the difference between naive and navel. Harm came like rain in winter, the words of Zephyrus slipping from between those amber lips, lithe on naked fingertips. You take the names of gods in vain, into your veins, let them convert only the white blood cells. You'd crucify me for vanity. You accuse the recluse of abuse, and it suits you, tailored because hatred sized you up the moment you met. The orchestra disbanded, the buds of May have yet to burst, yet to blossom like you say you always will, but the spring in your step when you walk away from the last word tells me more than the chirping birds nesting in your hair. You remind me of Paris on the walls of Troy, thief of hearts and fool indeed. Bringer of fire, brander of hell, but only because you were already the Tartarus Employee of the Month and enjoying Elysium. This is the beautiful mystery undone as her clothes and naked as the day Rosemary Matron gave her to the world. This is the beautiful mystery returned to voids as tangled as her hair, the nonspace between the curls hiding secrets and conviction. This is the beautiful mystery concluded, all the movements of her symphonic body no longer to allure. This is the beautiful mystery answered, the riddle of the Sphinx leaping from the pillar, a killer not quite so strong as her eyes. This is the beautiful mystery laid to rest, buried alive in a life discarded. This is good-bye.
Continue reading...
60
Did you notice the painted trillium— The way it freckled the dark sky Or the hills below the Sassafras summit? Scarcely scattered beneath the pines, The blossoms live and die like love, Or maybe not. Perhaps the petals live like I’ve imagined after they die, Boutonnieres pinned to the night’s blue blazer. But even if they don’t, I envy the way they live Their lives without wondering whether Or not they might dream. Our clothes fed the sweet pinesap, Rotting with our minds on the forest floor That night beneath the Lenten moon, And the cold draped our bodies In a film of sweat as thick as the sound Of the falls flooding the valley. Winter’s fear saturated our bivy’s fly As Spring drew near, but still we slept. Your pupils danced behind my eyelids And God shook his head in disgust While we sipped silver steins replenished from Lethe, But only angels died that night in Elysium.
0
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 11:02 PM UTC
After Tea
***What is it like? The fields of Elysium I mean Today I should be sneaking you wine After all, today is your Sweet 16 16 years ago on this very day Our aunties answered the phone Breaking the silence with sobs of sorrow All I wanted was to hold you at home But now you hold me You soak the ambience with hope in my lowest moments the force of your existence cleanses my scope My heavenly brother When times are tough and I am not around I know you take care of our sisters and our beautiful mother You showed me in that dream Vivid and clear I walked into our bedroom Our sister was asleep but something else was here A child's curiosity led me So I peered through our window To see skies dancing In a twinkling orange and yellow Our sister was still sound asleep in bed That's when I saw you for the first time A light blue warmth with a cherub's head You were cuddling our sister I was in awe, not a single word said Years have passed and I remember your visit Anyways I just want you to know When my eye's of this realm closes in death I want to see you beside me Bro One day we will all be together In our circle of Heaven, as light as a feather Can I ask perhaps to see you again? In another dream? Cheeky of your big brother to ask On your bittersweet 16***
0
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 12:11 PM UTC
Sweet 16
Your face, Tender, round and dimpled, Framed with gilded, carved, tawny curled Whirlpools of hair, long, lighted, and sparkling, Your face is the face— Of Ireland. Your lips, Full, moist and deathly deep, Are wells, not well for me, not safe, taboo, Tantric, tall told tales of brave Odysseus Under Circe's alchemies Of forgetfulness. Your ***** The zenith of blossom in fabled Elysium, gateway to the forbidden gardens Of sage and sinners, warrior-poets, Aphrodite's Envy, Poseidon's drowning And smoldering Zeus.
0
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 3:45 PM UTC
Face of Ireland