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Sally A Bayan Oct 2017
Past midnight...
apart from a nocturne playing
i hear a symphony of peaceful breathing
and snoring...rhythmical, this quiet evening,
it sends me soaring up my own universe,
with eyes closed, it grows more immense
creates some kind of a calm, in the silence
surrounding me, and my muse's presence.
stardust and moon provide me a crown
while i float...and probe around,
seeking something i don't know about,

in this journey,
i feel the absence of souls, slumbering deeply,
dreaming their simple, or strange fairy tales.
the firmament, wears a navy blue veil
stars are dots, they glow and scintillate,
like a warmth in the cold....emancipates
my invisible wings flap and fold,
a door ****...my hands take hold,
my destination...bright, resplendent,
"Cosmic Coffee Shop," a place, transcendent,
brewing a blend
-the dark, the positive
-the sweet, and the negative
a sign says, "write....there's pen and paper
in every corner..."
an invite, for people to create prose and poetry
where coffee is free, smells...tastes heavenly
a place to share...with brethren, in poetry.
::::::::
(an old poem)
1:01 AM


☕️ Sally ☕️



Copyright November 21, 2016
rrab
on a sleepless night,
  ...a plane roars
     ...breaks the silence-
ATC May 2016
Aloft, the mattresses on which she sits
Are facades that shield much more troubling things.
Their roots are grounded deep inside the pits
That stop solutions; soon, the bars will bring
Another pea to which the mounds will mold.
Bedsprings try to push parasites from her,
But soon tendrils will render her stone cold.
Naught can stop progression, if I concur.
As for things besides, that pea rots, growing,
Into another monster without rest,
And till the truth emancipates, the sting
Can melt the layers entirely in jest.
Though, when that day comes for longer sleeping,
Peace is felt by her who’s longed for keeping.
Himanshu Koshe Apr 2013
I try to measure the overwhelming depth of the ocean,

And with a sly deception shudder at my fantastic obsession.

The Me Within opens his wings, flies high in the sky,

Lovingly callous about the miles treaded by.



I weave around myself, an aura of hapless piety,

Adorn my helplessness with a cocoon of sincerity.

The Me Within emancipates – out of the golden cage,

To soar the mountains steep with an astounding rage.



I look at my past with guilt, remorse and sorrow,

And search outward for an excuse that I could easily borrow.

The Me Within looks ahead never to turn back,

His burlesque gestures mock at me for the pluck that I lack.



I live in a world of purity, of rituals, of rights and of wrongs,

Content with the legacy of my notes, happy with the tyranny of my songs.

The Me Within is mischievously charming, gamboling in between,

And I hear his whistle blowing, humming a tune so serene.



I count my days, count my time, and count my blessings, to win,

And relinquish the countless moments of joy, scared of committing a sin.

The Me Within is a careless lad, who happily loses with a smile,

And brandishes his joyful hat, every once in a while.

*

I wish I could be like him, and he’d live my life like me,

I’d paint the sky with freedom, and dive through the depth of the sea.

Reality shrieks yet again, with her deafening draconian din –

When he leaves me, and I leave him, I’d meet the Me Within…
Emily K Okita Oct 2010
Without really thinking

My swinging tears in a sun-drenched sky

Beneath my awkward grace

There is a fire burning

Without really thinking

As red rose petals fall down

Your kiss emancipates me

Carving the envy of thrilling betrayals

Without really thinking

I ask you darling

Is it the soft man in the corner?

Who maybe the first one

With Reprehensible sins

Without really thinking

The moments of humble opulence

The Threads shaping our story

Slender silhouettes of my love for you

Without really thinking

I will always love you
Taiwo Olufemi May 2018
Slow and steady
The pace at which my heart delineates
Glow and gliding
Yet, the result it generates
Flow and floody
The rate at which the world emancipates
Blows and ******
Yet with this, greatness and progress are always enunciate
But, is it the result that is really ******?
I think it's still the heart of men
The end will justify the means
The result will reflect the reasons
I won't mind the pace at which I think
I'll only be careful about the result it will bring
But as I analyse and appraise with my mind
I'll be mindful of the time
Time is money they say
Thought is honey I say
So far it yield a desirable and reasonable conclusion

A rolling stone gather no moss
A deep thought gives its result a gloss
Especially if with it you are engross
Pace though is an added advantage
The race should be won without a bandage
Jane Doe Sep 2014
The world was cold this evening, hard as fresh rocks on the beach. There was no rain to lull us to sleep.
My love you and are floating.
There is no space more vast than the piece between our fingers.
millenniums pulled into the inches between your naked feet; and mine
bathed in the moonlight, the frozen grass.
We slept here, was it the pills which numbed our senses,
or did we only now feel the putrid sadness which emancipates all lovers.
lengthy discussions between my teeth and your lips, strong cheap tea.
and ***** toes.
millions of miles resting between who we were,
and where we were going.
Jack Trainer Apr 2014
A transformation in the wind
Not a gentle breeze that emancipates
A lion tooth's angelic mane of seed
But a monsoon that threatens a souls complacency

The cycle of life and death that exists in all
A passion that ebbs and flows
The gust descends and reveals its riddles
From death to life another phase begins

The resilient fathom and unravel the mystery
The frail are sightless, seeing only the gluttony of their ignorance
Resist the wave of ambiguity, which seek to batter and disfigure
Death is the path to rebirth where being is eternal

A footpath that offers joy and agony
Success and failure
Hope and despair
A trail of wonders and judgments

Rejoice in the pain of lost love
Revel with delight at doom and forebode
Ours is a journey of enlightenment
With plunders worthy of life
Life changes for all of us and we go through cycles. We try to learn from our mistakes but mistake need to happen to grow. It's hard to fathom this when your life is in disarray. In hindsight, we are grateful for the ebb and flow of life. It's what makes it so interesting. For reference, a dandelion is also called a "Lion's Tooth". For me, it symbolizes a human soul that can spread beauty (a little yellow flower). It's a **** that can blossom into something worthy of our attention
Away with the light of Summer,
Warmth of days will surely diminish.
Chromatic leaves sweep and swoop upon each other,
Blanketing quilt; a tessellation finish.

Sweet Autumn,
Spiced fair to account its name
Prodigious, and far from lame!
A season with truly original custom.

Permeating brilliance
Rich hues; copper and amber glow.
Day reaches sentence
Night begins to grow.

Oh sweet Autumn,

Subtle shrouding darkness,
Sorrowful rain precipitates.
Temperature of unique sharpness,
Flourishing life emancipates.

Welcome to furnishing Fall
Period of brisk enthrall.
Somber reign; transient existence
Harbinger of wintry persistence.

Bittersweet Autumn…
Saturday, April 4th, 2020

“I hang my head from sorrow, the state of humanity,” sang the Sapient Songbird. Amid surging torrents, the serpentine blights of the human condition, there are spasmodic glimpses of hope. Listen unwaveringly to the voice within as you take an opportunity to confront your sufferings. Self-sovereignty can naught be acquired without introspection.  

What is the essence of the diadem of ascendency? Is it reason & rhyme operative, reverberating upon the wavelength of the sublime? Perhaps, forsooth, it’s law, edict, spawned to envelop all within the delicate balance of governance?  

Boundless freedom canst naught be apart from precept. True manumission is obtained within the analogical perimeter of law. Therefore, rulings & revelations only serve to banish evil, virtue always remaineth unbound. Paradoxically, the soul procures boundless freedom through willful obedience to precepts of the same Progenitorial One by whom we stand.  

Submission is ne’er captivity lest we forget the benison of willful surrender. Moreover, obedience heralds further effloresce in the Light of the Empyrean One, the Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love, Jah.  

Law is not fetter, nor is its absence liberty thereof, but pandemonium. Whence we gaze betwixt lines and letters of the law, we find the Element of Freedom; we find equity; we see in ourselves and others inherent depth, height, width, and breadth of moral character. Yes, even in regulation, the captive is unfettered; the wraith becometh revenant; the vexed soul, is lifted. Consequently, the ultimate law through which the liberation is acquired is the Law of Christ: Love.  

Sometimes I wonder upon the meaning of this life. Where do we find intemerate justice as an existential commonality? Whence shall armistice seize the Hands of Warfare that bruise Terraqueous Mother Earth’s Gaian epidermis? Whence shall every anima know the limitlessness of love? Terrene-scale answers are not mine to behold, nor ascertain, nor fathom.  

I must do all I can to metamorphose as a Kantian phenomenon, a Universal Force. Only when a heart teeming with love takes action, that it emancipates itself & others. Love is Nirvana.  

Each day that passes bringeth more discernment, more understanding, more knowledge, more wisdom. Moreover, I acquire greater “...love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faith, mildness, self-control...” with the passing of consolidated aeons. (Galatians 5: 22, 23) The spirit flows abundantly through in & throughout: it guides each one of us into the infinitude of virtue: love, wisdom, justice, power. All excellency, all grace, and all formosity, are found in Jah. Se’ lah.
Both sides of the Arbela militia remained frosty, failing to tear the wrath of the throne from the depths of the charter and from the expropriation of the votive temple, in view of the strength of leaders who were reinserted and rewritten from the plaster of Parnassus, where the beatifices Mortals are seen competing without having references or additions in the washer that predominated by chance referring to athletes and gladiators who were not, but today they could be spiked in the crushing Syntagamatarchos table, captaining two units all with their abdomen semi open, re liquidating again the entrails by the Ghosts of Shiraz, who came from Roknabad (also known as Aub-e Rokní), from an underground channel that carried water from the spring to the city from a mountain located ten kilometers northeast of Profitis Ilias, from where until then they were commanded, with dispatches of their designs before a voluntary prodigy that emancipates a perplexed Meltem i that he was haphazardly swirling in the funerary fields, but descriptive of returning to the fields their souls, which abstained after ephemeris towards a knowledge resigned to abide by it, and to get rid of transcendental limitations commanded by his blowing, and not his body that was clouded before the conspicuous epistemological reason flashed and relaxed when comforting them for having to calibrate their bones when they returned to Mosul. The Colosso pedestals were breaking when it intimidated everyone to flee to their homes, in this way it calmed them down from the quicksilver of the world that was no longer their typical dwelling, from a dwelling of transit to a story that deals with the flys that are they hover, pretending to be the same, banishing themselves from the pain that rises up the cervical spine and that dismisses the ridiculous voices of Aeschylus with their acting choruses that they seemed dilapidated in cries impossible to personify. The ******* brave pieces of deployment began to drain from the secondary positions of the penultimate physicalities of suffering that one felt without being affected, rather it manifested itself in the contents of an essential muscular container, of the subsistence of the cosmos installed in what does not think nor decide on its retraction. Vernarth and Alexander the Great knelt in front of the larnax of the torments of mercy, like ***** language that lashes out rhetoric in rebellions of thousands of hoplites who expiated themselves from their hands, empty spiked race contained in the perjury of Zeus, enrolled in apocryphal images in tombs of those who were going to be faced with pseudo refractory that was recluses of the fleshless breath, but anarchic when trying to return to their places of origin of warlike Tikun.

The traits of annihilation were shed from buried reanimates that became slime in the reverie of a mythological God who never accompanied them and invited them from a cohabiting sun, which was only the fantasy of irresistible permutations. It should be noted that the subplot was in intangible interfaces that would never be stitched together as an annexed story, but the words of parapsychology were captained by themselves more than the sub plotline that transcended the apostrophe of death, and the Pronoia of the Peri Kousmos. The doors of Patmia were finally released and speculative vines re-flowered were Lotos and Astragalus, as courtesies of Operandi and impairment that replaced the ****** elderberry, with chalks that made the winter raging when Persephone rampaged what was merely monthly erratic of those who exiled her. The senses of Patmos were the property of his Institution, which was what it is and is not, for a holistic consequence of fast ideology but of minimal intuition, which lay in multiple reasons for tissues that were filled with crop fields, animals in Magna prairies that agreed to serve the man who loved him, in which the causes were two meters before the limen that sent her off the cliff in other causes of confusion, in a real creation of zoological Hellenic neuroscience, where all forms of mythology were made of submithology, always at the side of man but this time redeemed from the origin and cause, they only persevere to offend a certain space of ignorance where the like all prevaricated by large amounts subordinate to their lineage, in the kingdom of paradises from which only animals protect the doors that only Cerberos and Cherubim open, scrutinizing food for them and making use of them.

Patmos was remade of all the waterfalls that completed the rigors of the precept, and not the chaos that subordinates cognition to make night day or day night, pouring specimens that were and will be ignored but extremely useful for the preservation of the body of the unsupported objective and sumptuous, but of a systemic nature that does and sustains it. The Souls of Helenikká and Trouvere graced all the inhabitants towards a comprehensive evolution of the ***** of dreams, giving it the fruits of conservation where the lords of the future will have to bow to the laborious principle of the Mashiach, conciliating the arrest of the stars and not of what is reactive of an invasive action. Thus ended this subplot rhetoric of intuitive formality and metaphysical channeling character, leading them through plumbing that led from what was coming out from the Raedus Codex, from the wind tunnel, and what was coming in from here identical to its elevation towards the direct apotheosis of the Megaron that was splendid in four composition buttresses with more than two drops of laudanum, which will be insignificant ***** to save the cosmos from falls of vitality in the conclusion of Vernarth.

Saint John the Evangelist after several sleeping episodes of his spiritual experience, reappears in the sucker of modality and intentions that the drops of laudanum manifested to fill the pain of Vernarth's tragedy, and those that are manifested to him that they became resurrected entelechies of component solutions speculative, that were reborn from certain internal devastations, and that returned vague automata to the Achaemenids that emerged from the depths of this professorial subplot, to bring them with the simplicity of lexicons that were loving realities that would lie behind the veils of illusion, transgressing properties of a totalizing daphnomancy. Due to his parliament, Áullos Kósmos eliminated himself braided from the road when he expresses fatigue and regret, calming the reasons in the flight from himself. He starts from demoralization and hidden impotence of the Hoplite that would not come out of himself, because it is a frenzy of consternation that makes him start from the unshakable grief of his compassion, without reaching the surface of the ethical plane.
Battle of Patmia Part VI
Kenn Rushworth Mar 2019
There was a noise downstairs

Heard it creep into what we read
Whilst in my ears it starts to shout
A sound that slowly sows its seeds
Then in the knees it wins the bout

I hear it growing closer
To the threshold of doors long shut
Before clawing into the room
Through our bodies
And the windows too

Hear it repeatedly speaking of
Mother’s sons born blue
All polluted in utero
Cold water and yellow fog
While others hawked their morals above

Hear holy words said to us
Proverbs two one two three
Do not move our mouths too much
But never mention
That more than holy spirits touch

Hear that change comes
When the North Atlantic
Nears our lungs
But sadness when we only get
To remember him while he was young

Hear it ring out between
What all the emptied pens believe
That parts of us have contravened
When our hearts fester from scene to scene
Betwixt the Romans and the Pharisees

Hear it in words of grace
In the void where your spine should place
When stood between tectonic plates
nor time nor stasis emancipates
The silence of our delegates

Then hear it in atomic air
The souvenirs of yesteryear
That spill and mix into our despair
The thoughts our hammers won’t repair

There is still a noise downstairs
Nidhi Panandikar Jan 2018
Our biggest problem till date has been trust. This trust i speak of need not pertain to interpersonal relationships, but in time.
We need time. I need time. And space. And energy and resources to function like a well oiled machine.
Sure i crack and crumble. Sure i crush like wafer thin ice on a frozen river. Sure it doesnt take much to push me down, for my buoyancy is only as strong as my will power and that is saying A LOT.
But like wax in a new mould, i build myself up again. Like a retrofitted structure, i extrude steel stanchions and girders within me. The frail brick facade does not fail me, only makes it lighter.
But none without patience. And no patience without the trust in myself, that i can get through this.
We fail to trust the system. The system that puts a government in our hands, which in turn chooses to sit on our backs with the engine on full throttle. We fail to notice our power, a democracy is nothing if not as easily disbanded as bound together.
We fail to trust our instincts. They help reboot the system when error 404 shows you the exit door. Trust them, for they come from within. The aura and the energy never lies.
Spread this energy for it emancipates negative from within.
Finally, we fail to trust our body. Which direction but down, would the body go, if the mind is all you listen to all day long? Trust your body to repair the damges you do at the minds behest. Trust your body to signal you when you go wrong. And listen when the signal blinks. Because frankly, you miss the signal and there is no looking back.
We need one another, sure. But what we do need the most is ourselves. Its easy to run away and forget things ever existed. What’s difficult is to stay put.
So trust me when i say this, the only way out, is through.
Do not run away when you feel uncomfortable. Its a trait of the weak.
Apurba Roy May 2019
Our souls deceive us; with incensed crossfire hurricane.
Thy constant belief gets adored,
Contrariwise my soul shudders.
I immolate my spirit along with the belief,
I bestow the will to the Lord: The Breaker of all chains . .
The immaculate hymn of a dynamic monk_
Emancipates me oftentimes,
The vortex of my mind never let me
be uncommitted
_

Despite a splendiferous incandescent
Translocates me from the untamed pain to ecstasy.
Travis Green Feb 2023
His badass chocolate masterpiece is
The only place I ache to embrace
Feel his heavily built, bewitching chest
Kiss his flat masculine abdomen
Long, strong arms that I wanna feel
Around my dreamy, luminous body

Fresh off the motha ****** block sauce god
I love the way he captivates and emancipates me
Makes me gaze in amazement
At his creatively engaging sensationalness
His machoness, his tallness, his unconquerableness
It all slays me incredibly

He pulls me into his robust bang-up hurricane
With his resplendent sensuous energy
He playfully teases me
Allows me to feel his frenetic poetic electricity
Compels and derails me
Arrests and undresses me

His desirable syrup-brown lips devour me
He overpowers me with his *****, puckered lips
When he kisses me fervently
I love how his impeccable kissable skin meets mine
How he probes my homoness
Take my breath away

Send me into vast, rhapsodic ecstasy
Make my heart beat faster
Exhibit his delightsome toothsome hoodness
Dominate me with his unparalleled amorous embrace
Fill my nation up with his explosion
Of untouchable dumbfounding ruggedness
Qualyxian Quest Nov 2021
My adventures might be behind me
Small Town small ahead
I like the little way
Helps me with the dread

Facebook has been fun
All those 80s ladies
St. Therese my favorite nun
Madonna, not Warren Beatty

Had a veggie sausage
Mustard and a side of fries
Honest Abe emancipates
George W. kills and lies

Prince all in Purple
1985
It's true I'm quiet and lonely
Still grateful to be alive

           I came alas to wive
    (but still my children thrive)
Travis Green Apr 2022
I pine to slow grind with him
Bask in his immaculate flashy splashiness
His hot marvelous matureness
A sweet smooth stillness that awakens me
I long for the magical moments after moments to come
When he feels me deeply
When he kisses me with his passionate pink lips

So ever graceful with his pace
With his immensely incredible patience
Wraps me in his bright divine fieriness
Deeply breathing in my sensual frequency
He exhilarates my chakras
Moves me into the limelight of his perfection
Like a stunning summer weekend

He shines sublimely in my mind
So ever serene as a gleaming, gorgeous Sunday
So fragrantly fruitful as a blooming succulent cherry tree
His swagger is enchanting as the everlasting azure sky
Perfectly genuine and untouched
Flaming southern charm in my heart
Pure unchanging bliss that consoles me

I hanker to drive into the deepest extents of him
Collide with his galvanizing kingdom
Let him perform his dreamy lucid poems to me
******* away with every wonderful word he says
The way he smells so sexalicious
He deserves a round of applause for his hotness
For his ****** affectionate majesticness
So complex like organic chemistry
Like quantum field theory
But still stellarly striking and inviting

He is the smoothest and grooviest dude that I know
That makes me tremendously twitchy in his closeness
He amplifies the slow jams in my mind
The beguiling booming bassline
That surrounds my creation
I thirst to drown deep in his salty hypnotic allure
Bound to his earthy and immersive firmament

Lay on his comfortably solid stomach
Press my palms on his lean bare chest
Drift away from the present-day problems of the world
So overly sweet on his exquisiteness
How he emancipates my nation
Kisses to my soft, breezy shoulders
Brings me closer to him to feel
His southern loving warmth

— The End —