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Liam Jul 2015
an infinity of predestined roles
an inclusive experience in totality
as every fiber, thread, and patch
in the quilt of being that is god

serial embodiment in all matter
animal, vegetable, and mineral
earth, atmosphere, and aether
purposeful suffering and solitude

new souls emerging from the cycle
comprehensive awareness fulfilled
a nebula of creative expansion
from a supernova of spirituality

novices grasping for comprehension
floundering with loving compassion
welling tears of confused recognition
from a source of obscured recollection

collective consciousness in transformation
the cumulative effect of genuine connection
to appreciate the strength of a star
to respect the divinity of a weakness
Alive Dec 2017
dear woman,

you are simply too ******* yourself
you have yet to realize the beauty in your eyes
you underestimate your wisdom,
yet your soul is always kind.

you are the embodiment of strength
a shining light in the dark
do not be cruel to yourself,
take time to love your body and heart.

your touch is soft and gentle
your voice is reassuring
you’re perfectly imperfect,
there’s no room for worrying.

your flaws are unique and defining traits,
still many are enamored with the imperfections you hate.

so look in the mirror and smile once more,
for you are a woman you should love and adore.
J-J Johnson Mar 2015
Let me tell you about an adventure of my mind
So calm and simple was she
Tremendously smart and immensely beautiful
I muse almost and always on how the elements were cherry-picked and made into such a wonderful whole
A genius in the embodiment of one of us
An angel in the wrong place but at the right time
Some kind of a mortal immortal
It was a decision to approach her
Now. No, maybe later. Better still never.
She made me for at least a moment have one wish in life
A wish in gold for the price of a bow
Oh Cupid look how you made me seem
So stupid, but yet for serendipity sake.
I brood on her thoughts in my mind more than I do myself
After my muse I am left drained of every modicum of vocabulary
Except one
Amazing.
Eleete j Muir Jan 2014
Fluttering to the ground
An autumn leaf
Floating like a feather,
The embodiment of heavens heart
Ascending towards that quondam.
An aeon contemplating creation
Zoariums; moulded from dust infused.
Immortality desecrated
Their fane, desolate
Gods will mans dying nature.
The rivers rose above
The highest mountains quaked
As tears reign below
Upon the blood soaked amber earth;
To the cross his body nailed,
Hours fervently passed
Cloud vapour appearing to evaporate,
Bearing the weight of mortal sin
The saviour hanged; azoic.
The anatomisation of finitude!
Crowned man infinite,
Enlighting the darkest souls,
The lighest souls descent.
Bleating like a lamb
Twilights slaughtered salvation
Riding the thoughts of heavens dream;
Two empereal doves
Homeward flying.




1997 ELEETE J MUIR
Mercurychyld Aug 2014
Along with centuries,
decades, years,
days and moments
I stand,
tall, majestic, in spite
of weathered skin.

I have endured
the monotany of
immobile time, deep gashes,
buzz saws ripping
into my flesh,
lovers’initials
carved into my
layers.

Creatures and beasts
of all walks of life,
have made a home
of me,
pushing, pulling
and bending branches,
causing pains,
oblivious to the
harm inflicted.

Either way
I stand,
tall and majestic,
in spite of insult
and injury.

I am that old
oak tree,
and my roots have
found their place,
gripping the fragile earth;
the raw embodiment
of determination,
no matter the weather,
no matter the punishments
nature can impose.

I stand,
tall and majestic,
like only an
old oak tree
can.


~ by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Brianna Elise Sep 2014
His name feels like silk
On freshly showered skin;
Soft and luxurious,
Swaddling in light warmth.
His voice rolls through my ears
Like distant quiet thunder,
Low and smooth as fresh cream-
But he purrs like a panther
When the lights go out.
He is black leather dripping in pearls,
Smelling of Italian cologne and chiffon.
Marble-chiseled face like stone,
With a jaw set like diamonds
In a platinum band.
His arms are like
High-powered assault rifles,
But his fingers are like soft rain
When he touches me in the dark.
His name is an ******
On Valentine's Day,
A champagne-tinged kiss
On New Year's Eve.
He is the embodiment of exhilaration,
Of fashion and fun,
Of money and ***,
Of power and glory,
Of love and valor,
His name is the only name
I want to scream in the dark,
And his name is the only name
I want to be mine.
Corona Harris Oct 2015
You are...
The epitome of insanity
The goddess of hypocrisy
The rebel of gracility
And the idolater of vanity                                    
The paramount of mistress
The fixative of my embodiment
I am a failed triad of disappointment lacking your physical, emotional and ****** completeness                    
I'm fueled by love of my adversary's  scrimmage    
And broken by my lechery                
Thus making me facil to your incogent persuasion.
And infatuated by your complimentary image                                  
Though you are the demoralizer  of souls      
The extension of my patience
By the obscureness of your oomph
Why in the foolery are you the axis of my goals                                                
You're an abhorrent char to my mind
Jeremy Betts Oct 2019
(political)

Our leaders don't instill much confidence with their arrogance and incompetence
The blind leading the blind, leading Trump, leading Mike Pence
The importance of common sense diminishing due to a far sub par influence
Leaving said common sense to no longer be common place, commonly erased and/or misplaced, replaced and praised by the physical embodiment of ignorance
A fact, in essence, is knowledge not acceptance, they rather you had no  remembrance of that conflicting evidence
With no thinking cap there's an absence of intelligence so you find yourself turning your nose up at the science
Thinking you can create your own semblance of order but it doesn't stick cause there's no substance
Empty ideas with no means to an end will never silence a crowd, just spreads around more violence
It's proven every election, they are tyrants saying what we want to hear then going back on all campaign statements
No more compliance, gotta stop thinking we the people can't make a difference
That thought was born from the opposite of arrogance in the sense that we don't know the extents of the power that comes with just our presence
It really, truly is a gift, now we just need to open our presents with a willingness and appropriate acceptance
Gotta quit with the indulgence of the hot air and flatulence that spew from these sycophants
Blind obedience is a dangerous way to advance and go about your existence
To much trust given in this instance, we bought it not 'cause it was a need but 'cause it was on clearance
Now we know the price was to steep but deceit is their quasi brilliance
Pure reliance on these p*ss ants we supposedly elected for guidance is a death sentence
They saw you coming from a distance and detoured your persistence
All the while preying on you from a white house window as you brave the elements
They even got you believin' your thoughts are your own but I can't stress this enough, that's nonsense
Regardless, it's no coincidence that we're falling right in line behind their wicked influence
Every four years we seem to pass on the renters insurance, so there's no assurance
No guarantee that when it comes crashing down like suicide insurgents
You won't be left to foot the bill of their gluttonous indulgence
Face it, you ate it up too, don't lie, can't claim your innocence when there's a witness and clear cut evidence
Evidence you bought into this with no regard for this nations residents
Coining the hashtag my life matters more then those low life pesints
In that regard see, poor is poor, color really, truly doesn't make a bit of difference
That's just used to keep us at each others throats so we don't form any kind of resistance
Saving face is a progress hindrance, we messed up royally when we voted outta spite and defiance
Even before it was official we knew it wasn't gonna be a good alliance
You could just tell by looking out into his audience and seeing who was in attendance
Every stance he took seemed like another foot in the grave but he buys his way out with daddy's allowance
Excuse me, I'm sorry, I mean inheritance, whatever, same difference
And this ADD society can't focus long enough to begin an impeachment prosses much less secure a prison sentence
And with the occurrence of each lie we lose more and more faith in the system put in place to uphold some semblance of balance
This breeds a nation of violence, looking for vengeance, no more tolerance
But we cant be the change we want to see while in a safe space, our soundtrack can't be the sound of silence
We don't want to be left with this blood money inheritance riddled with the guilty parties fingerprints
But at our core we're just looking to make more of a difference by being the difference
And yeah, they should be scared of what we're capable of, the gloves are off, we broke the trance, now let's dance...

©2019
Max Hale Apr 2012
Come Glastonbury, demand your suitors
Eliminate the negatives of their days
Show the signs of cheer and promise
Crystal clear and sun bright
The walkways between the tiny shops
Where escaping through to back doors and out
Inside spirits claim your soul
Wrestle your pathetic reliance on consumerism
Your slavish concern for fashion
And your unhelpful TV dinners
There in Glastonbury only truth is spoken
Revealing the weaknesses of our human frame
Our minds that suffer from prejudices and bigotry
Cleanse your soul, become yourself
Give up the senseless living that has dominated
And driven our daily chores and lifestyle
Discard them all and believe that man
Is just a tiny part of this cosmos
A spirit and energy of the completeness
Not the embodiment
Not the utmost but a small part
Perhaps a much lesser being than any other...
Despite everything we are special
You are special in your individual capabilities
Each soul a grain of stardust
Waiting to be reunited in the cosmos
With the rest of the wonderful plethora
Be calm in the knowledge that you
Your heart and soul
Are one and only
Unique
Even today in Glastonbury
Liam Jul 2015
ink of sky inhabits her eyes
  essence of serenity almondine
so spanish in silvern adornment
  though her soul is hafnium pierced

a haven for both life and death
  embodiment of artistic expression
openly hooded in earlobe spirituality
  nominally patrician by disposition

my source stirs in futile disarray
  kindred energy infusing the moment
a tree appears on a barren landscape
  devoid of foliage, vivaciously rooting
Liam Mar 2014
She will lose herself in a book
and find herself in poetry

She thinks that religion is a sacrilege
and that long showers are sacred

She makes love when she's tired
and never tires of making love

She is irreverent in her humor
and pious in her gravity

She is diligent in completing her work
and ambitious of her quest for leisure

She is the personification of romanticism
and the embodiment of compassion

She exists harmoniously in my mind
Brent Kincaid Jun 2018
You cringeworthy, evil pismire;
Your father did surely miss-sire
This personification of flatulence,
The embodiment of self importance
Overflowing with abject peccancy
Devoid of any sign of respectability
Replete with gross odoriferousness
Horribly and infamously unscrupulous.

You have reveled in misrepresentation
And tried to elevate your calumniation
Disinformation and deception exists
As capitalistic dissembling persists.
You’ve collected an evil government
Built mostly of human excrement
And have such a lack of veracity
That you speak in constant mendacity.

Sycophantic eructations of dogmatic bile
Issue from your unsympathetic smile
And your inauthentic glad-handed gropes
As if we all of us are unbright gullible dopes
That buy your fabrications completely
While you pilfer and prevaricate indiscreetly.
You are a Vaudevillian villain miscast as star,
But most of us know exactly what you are.

Deceit, deception, dishonesty; a tragedy
But not for you, for us and our country.
Distortion, evasion and fabrication the rules;
You despair of any other kinds of tools.
Falsehoods, fictions and forgery are your tricks.
You demand we build with straw-less bricks
Your erections that are planned to be palaces
Filled with your giant golden carved phalluses.

Those monuments, inanotomically correct,
Established to celebrate and somehow protect
A mountebank on the way to an overseas bank
Claiming to eradicate the scoria he creates
That decades of privation will not quite alleviate.
But you, the Great Prevaricator, will always blame
Other players in your sick, unconstitutional game
Instead of admitting your complicity and guilt
About the disgusting, putrid swamp you built.
Aditi May 2016
You are the **** itch people get in public and can do nothing about.
You are the left over canned food people throw away to rot
You are the leech that grows at the expanse of another soul
You are the embodiment of all the ill temptations I ever sought

You are the nauseating feeling that can taint the joy of best ride,
You are the single cloud in an otherwise perfect blue sky,
You are the the rose plant that only yields thorn
You are all blackness and cruel storms.

You are the door closed in a helpless face again and again
Like the rain after drought, you have always been inadequate
With every breath, your stupidity redeems itself,
Like a circle, your cruelty knows no end

And I have been a fool, bigger than you,
Worshipping a pebble off the road does not really make it a God.
Time and time again, for you I fall.
You can't keep bleeding forever and call it love.

But this, my friend, was the last straw
I'll let myself feel the pain, and let it all go,
I need space to spread my wings,
You need to strengthen your roots, and atone for your sins

In another time,
In another life,
Maybe our love will win
But for now, I'm a matchstick soaked in gasoline
And you are always too fiery.


Pardon, my biased hatred,
But you can truly hate, what you once loved.
The Wordsmith Aug 2014
I don't really remember much, but what I can't get out of my head is her eyes; not cold ice blue eyes, but warm sky blue eyes, that somehow find a way to warm my heart whenever I stare into them. I also remember her glasses, their night black frames, creating a beautiful contrast with her soft blue eyes and smooth alabaster white skin that glows in the sun light. And her hair; golden strands of woven sunlight that always seem to gleam and never lose their luster. Her lips were like soft carved roses, glistening in the sunlight whenever she laughed. And I almost forgot the little things; her laugh that was able to make me smile whenever, regardless of the situation, a laugh like the tinkling of bells, rushing of waterfalls, and all other wonderful sounds condensed into one unit. And her body, a figure fit for gods! But what I remember the least, the detail that escapes me the most, is her amazing scent. A blend of the intoxicating aromas of pine and lavender, all swirling around to create one of the vital details in her embodiment. Whenever I'm down, I close my eyes and bring together all these little details, and there she stands; my muse. But I will find her, the real her. For a life without my muse, is a life not worth living.
Danielle Jun 2021
There is one thing that you cannot replace in this world; the man and the sea,
A magical life runs in his veins, interconnected on the depths of its history.

The sea is a giver, it is a lullaby creeping on the shore. He is the sirens of the storm
If he could only reach me,
I would bear the anchor beneath the waves.

His eyes are sinking ships as the stars crashed on the sky; he is the embodiment  of a lost piece of your dreams,
the heart is as deep as the sea.

The time wouldn't keep us
but my words will linger deep in the sea.
Ties myself to the trees
Ropes tightened around my wrists and feet
Throw a rock on the gas petal rip my body apart
Have my intestines and blood stain the trunk of my car
Take me to the black room at the back of the rave
Stick four needles in each pupil let me feel all of that pain
I'd rather take a knife cut off my finger tips
Stick em in lemon juice stinging like acid
Watch my blood dilute the yellowish liquid
I'd rather **** myself then to ever live
Put the pistol to my temple give myself what i deserve
I know my own worth that's why i wanna die in the dirt
These demons they're yelling, whispering to me.
Speaking of things i have already seen. Telling me that it's okay to sleep. Knowing i see dead faces in my dreams. Lately my nightmares have been changing. ****** features of the figments rearranging. Went from older bro to two girls to one girl to nothing. Thinking of them my chest I'm clutching
So what is it this figment this dark shadowy figure. Mister miss me lately call you when you're crazy. Let me know when you're happy so i can bring the rain please. Let me crawl inside your head just to lay eggs of sadness you see. This shadowy figure is embodiment of depression to me
Words, words, words, words let me show you what they do. Tell me I'm worthless leave me battered and bruised. By pronouns and adjectives. Making me feel a whole lot Dif-ferent. The bottle of ***** in ya locker that you sip so casually. Seems to be the only vice i have that i see. Your image and reflection in this shot glasses i drink from. Makes me feel like i won't reach kindgom come. Maybe I'm Destined for hell in a 1 by 1 foot cell.
Fill up my bathtub with ******* water and a couple bottles of ***** then. I can sip a little bit while i start pondering. Feeling like sunday night dreading life like monday morning. Only thoughts i really have are of gruesome demons eating me slowly. Make me want to crawl to the kitchen and use a knife to feel a little more "holy". Funny how you used to shove jesus down my throat. Now I'm cursing him with blood guzzling out my throat.
Dark shadows envelope me
Wrapped a noose around my neck so i couldn't breathe
Depression was a drug to me like ecstasy
Tightened the noose i still don't wanna be
**** living without a meaning worthless never been worth ****
Depression hit me like a train knocked me off the chair now my limp body is hanging in the air
I'd rather sleep in the alleyways
Drink till I'm in a daze
Smoke till my mind is hazed
Cut till i don't ******* bleed
Drowning till i can't ******* breathe
All the memories start to fade day after ******* day
Run out into traffic just to take the pain away
This is basically a poem i wrote trying to show you what it was like in my head.
Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2012
The Great Alone
The greatest fear is to lose the one dearest to oneself the shadows even darken soulless darkness
The day goes without sunlight even at noon day where does the brave contend while loss bends comfort
No hiding place exist you understand the lifeless void love taken only obstruction lives in all starkness
All is gone the tumblers of the safe are dissolved you can’t lock anything in safety nothing can oppose

No desert ever formed looks and feels like this landscape baked to the point nothing recognizable
Shade is filled with inner burning always turning thoughts are only heavy weights you must bare
Where is the water once it held you with buoyancy now seek as you do none is found at all sizable
Burnished sand this wayfarer knows its captivity well it is only like a tightening rope around the heart

The still frightens because down its corridors the laughter of yesterday still quietly forcefully echo
Avoid natural reflections those images the most painful hurts dwell you feel their presence can’t touch
Embodiment longing that holds the greatest promise now a cross a twist on the crops of the god Peko
What mocking to speak of harvest when there is only devastation your heart where not one plant grows

He once walked where you walk his experiences reflect these very facts they are the human equivalent
You have lost that which can’t be replaced you know pain and sorrow he lost most of those he created
Then by love he came to rescue that which was lost he carried your pain by their action he is irrelevant
In the soon clearing mist all eyes will dry dead hearts will be made a live with joy and what a gathering
tc Sep 2016
a milky vessel
an open wound on a timeline of unspoken truths
a memory
distant yet so **** close i can feel it and i can feel you
an entity
do you pass by this life into parallel universes looking for pieces to put us together again (i would)
are you real or just my perception
perplexed by such embodiment of perfection in one human being
definitely an entity; entwined with milky vessels cascading back and forth to me
passing by through a wormhole
i catch glimpses
saccadic masking, too much blinking
i might miss it i might miss you i miss you
if you put the pieces together again perceive me
i'll appear all around you like a deity
matter and energy
the milky vessels of your veins run from your body through mine, keeping my heart beating
stay
stay in this reality and we will rebuild our pieces
and that's the beauty of energy, my darling
they were never truly lost
20092016
Ella Jackson Sep 2014
Allow me to look into the eyes of the devil
I send a prayer to God that I will only see fire in his eyes
and not love.

He may take many forms
The embodiment of beauty,
The disguise of a priest; the holy blessing.

Only let me not see love.

If life was black and white then explain to me, perfect stranger
Why I love the Devil
And why he loves me.
I am sure if the world was black and white then explain this grey area
between light and dark.

I have seen ghosts that haunt his house.

So shall I embrace the empty shadow of myself and
bathe in the supremity of darkness.

Or shall I dowse myself in holy water and
drag him, all guns blazing from the pit of hell he dug for himself.
Feedback will always warm my heart! So pretty please? If you like this and think I should keep writing, it'd be great to hear! Sorry for fishing for compliments but nothing will drive me on more than feedback and improvements! Enough rambling, BYE! :)

©Ella Jackson
Sympathy I feel for those who haven’t seen what I’ve seen, and for those who have felt what I’ve felt. The embodiment of my regret, shining with all the light once saved me, now engulfs me in torment of my mistake. As I orbit in harmony with the rotation of a green star, that is much more than just a green star, I ponder what my life would be if I still had my green star. I know that in time, this green star that means everything and more to me, will collapse and perish, but we will only be able to see the star frozen in time, that very instant before it collapsed, desperately clinging to one single moment. I still cling to that moment, the moment I saw my soul break free from the chains that I thought would hold me down perpetually, in her eyes. I don’t quite know how it happened, I wasn’t looking for it, I wasn’t on the make, it was the perfect storm, I said one thing, she said another, and the next thing I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my days in the middle of that conversation. It’s painful to admit that I ruined the most precious friendship I’ve ever had, which tends to sting more when she was the only genuine friend I’ve ever had. I prefer solidarity most of the time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t long for a companion every now and again, but lately that desire grows stronger and stronger, holding on to the memory of the companion I once had and lost. My life on Earth, my past life, would be considered prosperous; I was one of the top aerospace engineers in the world, which is a very time consuming and painstaking practice, but exploring the unknown territories of the universe had always been my passion. I didn’t have much of a family, my mother and father passed away when I was 22 years old, and my brother and I severed ties shortly after the death of our parents, and I had not desire nor time for a significant other, let alone the willingness to dedicate my life to another person. I always believed that I embodied the definition of misplacement, I never seemed to fit in any particular group of people, nor with any other person, really, I enjoyed getting lost in the sea of my thoughts, riding the waves, pondering ideas, asking questions that can only be answered in theory, which essentially renders me incapable of interacting with others. However, being your own best friend can sometimes lead to psychotic thoughts of self-loathing, and eventually the last straw broke the backbone of my perseverance, and I convinced myself to commit suicide. Originality and pretentiousness ****** me, demanding myself to end my life a way no one else’s life has ended, and my imagination spiraled into a storm, brainstorming my own demise. My most recent endeavor at the time was to manufacture a personal bubble that would sustain in space, and condensing a spaceship into the size of a smart car was the threshold between my pathetic life of this planet, and self-destructive glory. After a year of an extremely unhealthy intensity of research, my talisman of my soul, my most cherished invention, my cosmic coffin. I traveled from my home in Anchorage to the highest point in Alaska, Mount McKinley, and inserted my body comfortably inside my space bubble and proceeded to ascend into my eternal salvation, ascending towards achievement of my life’s dream, ascending the edges of space, where no human has ever occupied in history. The butterfly feeling in my stomach, caused by the sheer joy I felt, is probably the closest feeling I had ever felt at the time to true love, the irony of my affection for death. As I slipped past our atmosphere and found myself floating closer towards the stars and planets, I sat down and enjoyed the galactic show of entropy before me, and after a while the visual melody put me in a hypnotic state, and before I knew it I was being stated down by a saucer shaped spaceship with luminous blue lights encompassing the round edge of the ship. I felt my capsule gravitating towards and entering the ship through a small hole on the underbelly of its structure, that appeared to look like a portal. As I passed through the light I was being observed by a feminine looking blue creature, with bright green eyes that sparkled like emeralds in the moonlight, and long, luscious blonde hair, straight and smooth as silk. She was tall, which I realized as I stood up out of my capsule, about an inch taller than my six foot frame, with long, skinny fingers and decently big webbed feet, and a long slender tail hanging down from her backside that wasn't quite long enough to touch the ground. She had shiny, scaly skin that had a deceptive rough appearance in texture, but felt soft and smooth when her hand reached out to embrace mine, and she said, "Hello, I am called Elora, what are you called?" Still in shock, the only awkward response I muttered was, "Eric" and she asked, "Why are you here Eric?" As I regained my quick wit I declared, "Does anyone know why they're here?" She smiled, exposing her sharp white teeth and proposed, "Well, you can help me find out." I think it had something to do with the adrenaline rush caused by the mystery and uncertainty of the situation, but I caught myself grinning, I didn't even realize I was smiling, it was an odd, unfamiliar feeling, but I was madly attracted to this blue angel from the stars. I spoke to her about my life on Earth, and my elaborate suicide plan, and she explained to me that she abandoned her home planet Eridani to conduct galactic research, and that she was from the Altair race. She elaborated on how life on Eridani did not satisfy her, and that she would spend her life roaming around nebulas, exploring galaxies, researching stars, and documenting her experiences. She showed me a star that she claims as hers, a green star called Zohra, which was her favorite star because she said she could only feel happiness when looking at it, to which I said, “It reminds of your eyes” and she looked at me and seemed flattered. She loved that star, her eyes lit up brighter than the star itself when she would stare at it, hypnotized at the sight of it, which I cared little to notice because I couldn’t look away from her. I couldn’t quite understand how someone could be so invested in something like that, something that just sits there spinning and spinning, peacefully participating in the orchestra of the universe. I think she was so fascinated by this object because she felt the same disconnect from others of our kind. The lonely, outcast feeling connected us, ironically, and we carried on intriguing conversation for what felt like an eternity, and I only wish that conversation could've lasted longer. I found in Elora what I had not found in any human being, she understood me, to the point where I was convinced she had mind reading abilities, and her understanding me didn’t diminish her interest in me, like what usually happened to me on Earth. I found happiness in her company, I found salvation in her embrace, I found unparalleled beauty inside and out, and I found myself in our friendship.  As time slowly rolled on my affection for Elora grew increasingly unbearable, and eventually the realization dawned upon me that I had to inform Elora of my feelings for her. We were accelerating towards the Crab Nebula, and I noticed the blurred blue light in the center, wrapped around by streams of red and yellow light, holding the blue heart in the center together. Elora was to me what the red and yellow streams were to the integrity of the Crab Nebula, without those streams, without Elora, my soul would fall apart and disburse, just like the blue light in the center of the Crab Nebula. When I turned, looked her square in her eyes, her gorgeous eyes that were accented by the light emitting from the Crab Nebula, those eyes that pull you in and leave you in a trance, those eyes that display the beauty of nature condensed into two little spheres that seemed to effortlessly gaze inside my soul, breaking down every single wall that I have ever built up to hide myself from other people, and uncover everything I so desperately attempted to hide deep down, and I said to her, “You are the only reason I’m still alive, the only reason I still want to live, the only other soul that accepted my lost, broken soul, you are the most amazing, most beautiful creature born from the stars we now roam around, I tried to die to see what heaven is like, but heaven can wait, because there is nothing more I want than to be with you until the day my soul slips away from my body, I am madly in love with you Elora.” I poured my heart and soul out to her, bleeding out every ounce of passion and love and sophistication to her, exposing every bit of my emotions, leaving me naked and defenseless before her. Different scenarios raced around my head about how she would respond, and she glanced down at the ground, looked back up at my blank face, and she said, “My people do not love, we do not believe in love, and we cannot love. Love, no matter how polarizing it may seem, always fades in time, everything fades in time, love fades in time, ideas fade in time, you will fade in time, I will fade in time, in the end, nothing is perpetual.” My heart sank down into my stomach, and right at that moment I grasped the idea of why they call it “falling in love” because I landed harder than I could even fathom, I did not know that such powerful emotional sorrow could physically hurt so bad. I dropped down to one knee, and the streams of tears ran from my face and splashed down on the ground, like delicate little glass beads shattering as they made contact with the surface, shattering like my heart and soul. The pure agony and embarrassment of staying with the love of my life, whom I had just made an absolute fool of myself in front of, was enough to crush any man’s esteem, so the only rational option I could think of was bail towards my space bubble, and go as far away as I possibly could from the light that saved me. With every inch of separation between her and I, my heart and soul grew sour and stone cold, and new theories to rationalize my reaction and actions that followed. As a child I went to an amusement park, and I was particularly frightened of a certain attraction that lifted you straight up, a couple hundred feet, and dropped you straight down, and now I realize that my fears of love are comparable to this ride. I was so mortified by the ascension, which precedes love, that I could never enjoy the thrill of the fall, even though this time the safety harness didn’t soften the landing. I came to the conclusion, after years of thought, that I could not blame Elora, it was who she was and there was nothing she could do to change that, and instead of accepting the fact that she did not love me, I cowardly abandoned the only thing in my life that I gave a **** about, I ran away from the only other being in the universe that could make me smile the way she made me smile. After years of solidarity and self-loathing I realized that I would much rather spend my life with Elora, even if she didn’t love me, as opposed to regressing back to my lonesome life, only surrounded by a vast, more captivating scene. The only reason I am still alive is because I have not given up hope that one day I will find Elora again, and I will beg for her forgiveness, and hopefully I will be able to cherish every precious moment I spend with her. I solemnly believe that the slim chance will occur that I will once again see that face, gaze into those eyes I once did, and curse my old self for being foolish enough to leave her. I am not certain, but I can only hope that she is at least indifferent to encountering each other once again, but if she denies me I cannot blame her, because after all it is my fault for my impulsive escape. But for now I wander as a nomad amongst the stars that form constellations that all remind me of Elora, watch the planets rotate, and reminisce on the time we shared together, the time I took for granted, time that I consider to be the most precious moments of my life’s experience. I spend most of my time roaming around Zohra, which was where she and I parted ways, in hopes that one day she will return to her favorite star, to find me right there waiting for her, however patience has not served me well, and my actions which I so deeply regret caused her to abandon the star which she claimed as hers, the star that radiated happiness upon her, the magnificent star that embodied her in beauty and essence, to avoid the thought of me leaving her, which is justifiable because she was probably very flustered by me scrambling to leave her after my episode. I rotate around Zohra, observing its physical qualities, seeing Elora’s face every single time I look upon its surface, but one day the light exiting the pores of the planet grew significantly brighter, and Zohra began rotating and shaking at a phenomenally fast speed, and I witnessed Zohra swallow itself in a supernova, creating a black hole. I interpreted this to represent the death of the hope I had to once again see Elora, or maybe time had taken her like time had taken her beloved star. I allowed myself to succumb to the irresistible force from the black hole, and the death of hope I had to once more see the angelic face of my love, swallowed my space bubble and my hollow body occupying it, to the point of no return, where I can no longer regret what I had done to her, because in time, my love for her destroyed me.
God visited our house last Sunday
a bright papaya orange butterfly
welcomed Him,
fluttering in loops like a kite
as He stepped out of His car

Embracing our dear friend Jon from
New Jersey
He entered our pagoda
indeed, not as a guest but
as an embodiment of God

The early afternoon was garlanded
in loving, intimate, animated conversation
and a delectable lunch was served to our
beloved  brother
This was topped off with nectar sweet
chocolate coconut prasadam

Everything from matters of the spirit
to soul stirring S.R.F. devotional songs
chanting sublimely
suffused our heavenly day

Even the backyard birds turned out
in large numbers
their cocky red, brown and
sky blue heads
peeking curiously through
the patio door
craned to catch a glimpse
of our divine companion

Jon, His mellow, prayerful eyes
blessing all His gaze fell upon
leaned back comfortably in
the recliner chair
like a long lost friend
returning home ~
wounded Nov 2013
we are not the
embodiment of beauty,
despite the way
your
quips dance with
my vagary,
or how
our bones are trophies
built from the
same bits of shrapnel
from explosions,
forged by hands
who never learned
how to fashion empires
out of anything
but fragments,
no,
we are much more
than beautiful,
we are
isotopic, enigmatic,
we’re magnetic and
eclectic,
we are
the sum of all things,
a compilation, a mosaic,
we are a
memoir of the universe,
we are fate,
we’re algebraic,
we’re the intersection
of two lines
without a destination,
but
when i follow the trail of
freckles
up your spine,
i find the root
of my
elation
snarkysparkles Oct 2014
Books
Portals to faraway magic worlds
And time machines to the past and present
Gateways to parallel universes
Made from the bodies of long dead giants
That lived and grew as far as the eye could see
Slaughtered by the thousands
And drenched in the blood of liquid night
In strange characters in rows one after the other
We are the hopes and dreams of the crafter
And the living embodiment of the mind of the user
We are the collective knowledge of a civilization
And the collective imagination of them too
We are the storytellers of eras gone by
And eras yet to pass
We paint ourselves with bright colors
In order to attract the eye of the user
We say what we tell on our backs
But we are dying
Our users ignore and abuse us
There’s so few left to share our knowledge with
And when we can't share our knowledge
We die
Once we die so too dies all hope for a better future
x May 2018
i always told you
i'd fall for you like rain
in a september afternoon.
how my love is an embodiment
of a blooming red tulip,
basking in the sun's ever lasting
warmth,
like the first ever smile you threw my way.

they would tell me
that the universe is saying
we aren't meant to be.
how can't we,
when the stars that night
when we mutually tried escaping reality,
says otherwise?

you once asked me
what we are,
and i remember not answering.

but if i had the chance again,
i would tell you that
you make me feel like
the first snow of winter
and simultaneously,
the last.

so if i asked you
if you felt the same,
would you say yes?
KM Ramsey Feb 2016
what can i do when there are hands
hands all over my body that
are disembodied reminders of that
night
when kristallnacht fingers slashed my
tender soul to childhood ribbons
penetrated me in my flowering womanhood
and stamped my forehead with
that bloodstained W
and you still see me as that
*****
that infant abandoned
at the red brick fire station
safe haven laws
but i didn't even go to a hospital
when sanguine shame
seeped from my cursed hole
that secret between my legs

and i wished they'd unraveled my entrails
disemboweled me rather than
stabbing me with their flesh
samurai swords of virility and
i wish they'd killed me like
a stuck pig and maybe
placed an apple in my mouth
to silence me instead of
asphyxiating with their hands
that i now can't escape
their sensational escapades
across the plains of this body
that i am forced to
inhabit and traverse the
Serengeti wasteland where i
beg for predators to once more make
me feel like i have no control
and maybe **** me in the end

because those hands

when they first touched me
i would have hacked them off
with a butter knife
some dull rusted blade
but they disengage already
they follow me as if
superglued to the hole which
for them was the complete
embodiment of myself

just a cavernous nothingness for them to inhabit
with their manhood
shooting pain to complete my
empty soul
and fill it with seething shame
and a layer of dirt to
close me up and
forever taint the white sheets
with blood stains absent
and are you still a ****** if
they took you by force and
you never wanted it but
didn't fight back

they are inside me
forever
and they wake me in the
dark of midnight whisperings

they wake me when
you turn over in your slumber
to wrap me in your arms and
you are greeted by shoves
and tears
when will i not whimper
because you aren't them but
those hands
in the darkness
i can't tell the difference between
those hands
and my own
and yours
and i want to be ripped apart
torn open and laid bare
excise them from my secret place
from that place in my brain
from which my nightmares seep
and those hands
hold me down to relive their
searching violation
in bold technicolor revelations
that i'll always be that girl
the drunk *****
the dumb *****
the ***** who deserves to
relive that night to no relief
world without end

you must see a dumb *****

you must see the marks of
their handprints
all over my body

you must be disgusted

but i'll take your *****
and consume it in your absence
just to be closer to you than
those hands.
letters to you i'll never send
Beatrice Prior Oct 2018
I have an interesting flower in my garden,
One that is the embodiment of beauty, but refuses, strangely,
To accept its wondrous colours.

I have an interesting flower in my garden,
That sprouts some throrns sometimes.
They ***** me, and I bleed,
But my constantly beaming flower,
Always has a comeback.

Some days my little flower wilts,
With guilt and the feeling,
That many have come and stomped on her.
But still my evergreen flower,
Overgrows and blooms beyond.

I have an interesting flower in my garden,
Whose scent gives me air.
A sweet wallowing nectar,
Flows past her ocean of petals...
And to my little flower,
I appear a loving bee.
Satsuki Feb 2014
I'm the human embodiment of self destruction
I hurt myself until I can barely function
You're worthless, I hiss
Why am I like this?
My skin has scars from self harm
I rip apart my own arms
Bruises from punching walls
I just say they're from nasty falls
The second I feel happy
My mind won't let that be
I tell myself hideous things
The second my heart sings
I crave to be alive
But my body only thrives
On self loathing and hate
Is this really my fate?
Am I doomed to hurt every day?
What kind of a life is worth living this way?
James Jan 2019
vicodin is a long term friend
with a warrent for my liver
and my life.

1:43am
we had an appointment
and god only knows
i could never be late for such
a chalky sense of closure.

and the young paramedic
who burst my vein and scolded me
could only pray his words
meant more than the hum of streetlights
as my body exchanged existence
for the embodiment of thought
and a brittle concept of my phrenic nerve

which was never more at peace than when
my lungs remembered the luxury
of standstill traffic

of weighted morals

of crushing insecurity's release
and the resulted ballooning
as squashed egos cry, and the garage door screams as it's yanked open

horrid sounds and tortured motion on both accounts

spiritual cataracts torn free
commercialized visions now blur

as the orange bottle morphs from
vicodin to paracetamol

equalized views in my bloodstream
as the sheet metal ceiling shifts to plaster tiles

to a TV set

to a bathroom mirror

to an agonized woman next door

to the back windows where my mother cries where no one but the whole world can watch

to a blue plastic mattress and a first floor window covered with bars

to a pale green day room with a caged TV
where there was bleach in the stomach of a nine year old

where the dying took their resurrecting breath between games of spoons

where the hinges screamed and blood pressure was taken three times a day

this where the living came to kiss death goodbye

until next time

— The End —