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And on the day when
He shall gather them all together:
O assembly of jinn!
you took away a great part of mankind.
And their friends from among the men shall say:
Our Lord! some of us profited by others
and we have reached our appointed term
which Thou didst appoint for us.
He shall say:
The fire is your abode,
to abide in it, except as Allah is pleased;
surely your Lord is Wise, Knowing.

Holy Quran
The Cattle
6:128

Do you build on every height a monument? Vain is it that you do:
And you make strong fortresses that perhaps you may
And when you lay hands (on men) you lay hands (like) tyrants;

Holy Quran
The Poets
26: 128-130


The desert Jinn of Cairo
flit and dance
upon the burning waters
of the Nile.

The midnight streets gasp
with the turgid fragrance
of tear gas and jasmine

The stink of the
ungrateful dead
riles the nostrils
of indifferent gods
laughing
at the litter of corpses
strewn along
torpid boulevards
in this city of lament

Unbounded crowds dash
amongst fleeting shadows
the agitated ghosts
of undead generations
refusing to stay buried
blink to life
in epileptic frenzy

The timeless city
civilizations
fertile floodplain
authored
western cultures
opening chapters
housed mythic libraries
erected mysterious
stone tributes
esteemed
monarchical opulence
now yields
frenetic outbursts
of Arab fury
writing
an epilogue
to a despots rule
the blessed end
to an imperial age

Rampant corruption
asphyxiating bureaucracy
malicious suppression
syphilitic exploitation
rabid oppression
enforced ignorance
human defilement
are the bitter
sediments
of degradation
layered in crushing piles
upon the lowly masses
on this delta of sorrows
breeding revolution
to unravel a tyrants
specious claim
to perpetual rule

The city
streets
flood with
militant
insistence.

Emboldening
a peoples will
to rise up
beating hearts
pounding
a sonic drum
resonating
through
this age
foretelling
a turn
in history's
creaking wheel.

Allah Allah
Allah Akbar!
bleats
from parsed lips
from underground
brotherhoods
the rising words
sharper then
Saladin's Sword

The Holy Quran
flows like boiling blood
in agitated hearts
dissidents pound
bloodied fists
against intractable walls
of monolithic power

Visions of liberation
a democratic paradise
an infinite harem
of compliant virgins
swim in the heads
of dissidents in motion
as baying throats
exhort comrades
shouting brave
seditious slogans
to engage
bullets
batons
water cannons
and unsure outcomes.

I heard a young woman say
"I have faith in my people
and faith in my country."
Never a more foolhardy sentiment been expressed,
nor braver words have I ever heard.

As the laughing Jinn of Cairo
flit and dance
atop the burning waters
of the Nile.

A city
self immolating
atop a pyre
of blood stained stones
dry constricting fables
passed down along
marching epochs
hieroglyphic puzzles
recorded on
crumbling papyrus
wrapped in
holy legends
of mystical pharaohs
receiving an exiled
Father Ibrahim
fresh from
the destruction
of *****
cedes to the
Lord of Fear
spawns a lie
and gives
Sister Sarai
over to the
unholy whims
of profane
magistrates

Abe's skin saved
soul preserved
the generations
multiply
more numerous
then the countable stars
in a known universe
not vast enough
to find room for
Hagar's cursed progeny
-call him Ishmael-
a wild ***
exiled to
Desert of Paran
siring many
lesser Semites
becoming
a strong archer
in the vast legions
in timeless
service to
an uninterrupted line
of deranged Pharaohs

This scorned land
grew the
grievous reeds
swaddling
Baby Mussa
who turned
the river of
his arrival
into a flood
of gushing blood
who split the waters
to consume
the raging armies
of marauding charioteers
bent on the annihilation
of their chosen
Semitic half brothers

The shame
agitates
the simmering
rage of ambivalence
gladly sacrificing
these historic
treasures
on angry
bonfires
tipping
the glories
of Alexandria
into the sea
once again

Up stairways
down dark alleys
the Jinn of Cairo
dance
haunting ruins
hurling stones
burning buildings
looting stores
smashing artifacts
cursing the bitter bread
of tyrants
chasing
the black echos
of deadly gunfire

Nasser's
dead soldiers
gather in corporeal legions
a proud nations
undead generation
mythic heroes
dashed in Six Days
rise from
shallow graves
of Sinai
shame is loosed
to stalk targets
heated enemies
setting aflame
the burning waters of
a very blue
unsettled Nile

The unholy platoons
Sadat's assassins
hurl grenades
like thunderbolts
from jealous Zeus
implores Mars
to join the fray
rousting the specter
of dead kings
and a terrorized
President
living in the black days
of his final nights

Tell Ole Pharaoh
to go back to the hell
from whence he came
as the laughing
Jinn of Cairo
dance on  the
burning waters
of the Nile.


Music Selection:
Randy Weston: Blue Moses
(WIP)
1/31/11
Victor Thorn Dec 2012
Pink: the color they hid from me in the days of dewy youth.
But what I see as pink may be a yellow, green, or blue.
My eyes don't deceive me;
I think yours do: you have not the slightest clue.

Pink: the aid in love's elusion.
Pink the way and pink the means
by which I loved at last!
Still, they all insisted on my blueness
while emboldening dividing lines
dividing most of human kind.
Open minds will quickly find
that nothing and yet everything is pink.

And I loved him as a human,
not an object of desire.
His knees must be weary:
sore from bowing.
He found god between my thighs,
but I found Love between his lungs.
It's okay– at least I felt something.
And now he just abandons me
and -silence- ends my fantasy
and I can see reality.

Could I, would I sacrifice
a stable mind
for one last night?
Would that I could sleep so fine as to
not rely on him beside me,
emboldening dividing lines
dividing most of human kind.
Open minds should quickly find
that nothing and yet everything is pink.

Everything is pink (and yet nothing).
Is it too revealing?
Jessica Golich Nov 2014
Maelstrom of emotion emboldening an eye opening betokening of an attitude full of alluring arousal
Walking thesaurus as fluid as a notable chorus playing in accordance with an authentic Baroque performance; silver-tongued eloquent deliveries enthusing an amusing musing
Roaring reassurance of being on the prospect of procuring central evidence - the preciousness within choosing a gained conscientiousness approach promotes an unadulterated antidote
Introspection of one’s predilections stirred the modern, robust direction toward the recollection of a pristine, internal haven nurturing relaxation and crystallization.
Golden
Magnificent
Emboldening
Transcending
Emerging and engaging
Merging and integrating
I see my Africa
Rising as the sun
Ascending
After a seemingly endless night

Propelled by the rising sun
I glimpse the eclipse in the horizon
Compelled by the morning songs of the African birds
I spread my wings ready to fly like an eagle
Dark clouds dissipating giving way to light
Just as I was anticipating it’s time to fly
To freely fly in the blue sky
Without treacherous clouds threatening my graceful flight

Hovering in the heavens
Visualizing all inhabitants
Working towards one goal
As I play my spirit given role

Happy and at peace
I sing the African song
You have blessed the sun
Now in light, I swim
You have reduced the darkness
Now my light prevails

Development is imminent
Upon the African Continent
Africa is on the verge of a tremendous economic transformation and all Africans should get hungry because an economic boom is imminent over the African continent.
Michael Marchese Aug 2017
I call upon their harmony
They honor me with artistry
The pupils of Apollo's
Lyre resonant inside of me
Calliope adventurous,
Intrepid in her recklessness
Emboldening my will to lead
The unenlightened on this quest
Through Clio's scrolls of history
My oracle clairvoyant
She has graced me with the vision
Of the future sky chatoyant
And a buoyant sea of Euterpe
All floating through the lyricist
That synchronizes all of this
Into a metamorphosis
Evolving as Erato's love
A heart as soft as silk
A dove, tabula rasa thirsting for
The Mother Gaea's milk
To rise from Melpomene
Masks of tragic flaws of Icarus
For I divine the comedies
Thalia simply can't resist
Polyhymnia, Terpsichore
My rarest of expressions
Still reveal themselves in forms
Of spirit guide possessions
When Urania in cosmic bliss
Transports me to the stars
Reborn again to join them
As Mnemosyne's memoirs
Through the midnight alley, he seemingly fritters
With red-lit embers and gleeful priding strides
Eyeing shadows which wretchedly, wincingly vanish
Mocking him with disdain and false pride
But confident in his wits and smiling in his head
A different scene played through his mind
“Those shackles cast, yet dreary glisten
Emboldened by tears in which all hide
Was I too once alas meand’ring servant
To boss, landlord and the like
Each day making payments on existence
With deposits of my mortal flesh
Twixt daylight, moonglow, aye, all through ether
Run ragged by both birth and death
Until I breathed by chance the misty freshness
Of life’s emboldening, wild sea
And encountered with senses anew
In a love unabashed
An untamed earth for me
Each of her breaths I savor as the tend’rest morsel
And my eyes embrace the endless expanse joyfully
For I know not where I’ll float in this ocean
And each outgoing rush carries doubt
But if I hasten my passage with fortitude and reason
The open depths of life wait for me.”
So off he goes, anxious for trials and glory
He floats on legs which he rows with his dreams
Which serve as a map to solace for those who may not falter in aspiring
Anais Vionet Mar 2022
Yesterday’s weather was squallish, so Mich and Lisa were posted-up all day. They’ve been hanging together lately but tolerhate each other - I don’t get it.

Mitch, a Junior, is the snippiest man I’ve ever met - except for my brother, when he’s actively trying to be a ****. Everything Lisa does seems to rub him wrong, but he’s got a massive ***** in her direction.

Sometimes Lisa lets him intersperse his harsh music and we get “Neural Milk Hotel” or “Bikini ****” - screemo tracs that set me pinching fingers close together THIS close to unplugging the **** router. I don’t think he’s a comfortable fit.

So, the three of us were going to pick up dinner at “Charley’s Place” and bring it back for the room. We get about ten feet out in the rain and Lisa says, “Argh! My Phone,” holds up the “1-second” sign and turns back.

Mich, with the rain lashing down, is clearly irritated. He turns to me, looks me up and down and says, “Should we sleep together and see what it’s like?”

I decided that either his irritation with Lisa was emboldening him - or more likely, he was making a joke. “Wow, you’re really smooth with the seduction thing,” I say, hoping he takes the joke path.

“I’m being direct,” he says, bending his legs or something to look me more directly in the eyes. “I like you, I’m attracted to you.” I looked away. Then turn back.

“It’s wrong. The whole idea. Deeply wrong,” I say, deciding that he’s serious and starting to get mad, “Lisa’s my friend,” I say, wondering how I can tell her about this, “die for that.”

“We know each other - it wouldn’t be like sleeping with a stranger,” He says, trying a logic so odd I almost laugh.

“Collapse already,” I say, dryly, as the dorm door opens and Lisa emerges.

I put Lisa between us. “You know,” I say, sweeping my hair back from my forehead but keeping my palm pressed there like I’m taking my temperature, “I think I’ll call it a night.”

“Awww,” Lisa says, grimacing disappointedly. “Really?” Tilting her head in concentration as she searches me for reasons, symptoms, or a change in heart.

“Yeah,” I say, giving her a hug, “see ya later.” I turn and go in, as they walk off arguing.

I decided to work on an essay I’d been putting off, but my heart wasn’t in it - I couldn’t concentrate. Everything was irritating me - my clothes felt like wool - thinking I was going to have to tell Lisa about Mitch’s proposition.

Forty minutes later Lisa’s back home - with sandwiches for both of us. I’m sitting on my bed playing Animal Crossing when she scooches onto the foot of my bed and tells me she decided the Mitch thing wasn’t working anymore.

“Thank God,” I say, letting my head fall back on my pillows, “You couldn’t trust him.”
BLT word of the day challenge: Intersperse: place or insert something at intervals"

Slang: post-up = staying inside   tolerhate = hate but tolerate

There’s a song for this: All I’ve ever known by Bahamas
“Do you know?”
“How will…”
“If the pain in my heart effloresces into something greater than this, what shall I become?”
“Never in my life have I gazed upon a countenance as beauteous as the one in your possession.”

“A parcel of pure magnetism is what the Lord of the Divine has bestowed upon me.”
“The stars in their dainty iridescence have blessed us and the thoughts of your love in my heart light up the darkest night in a big bang of enamorment and soul.”
“Time has not forgotten my wish, to be intertwined with the soul of another.”
“Do you see me?”
“I see you?”

The moons benevolent smile has given me the hope to search for a scarred heart buried beneath the tumult of ebony skies.
Love is not cliché and redundant in a heart that has wished for it since the beginning, the genesis of the very Universe.
The Phoenix shall inspire a metamorphosis within the confines of my soul as time unleashes the benediction of my faithful rewards.
In that day, I shall gaze upon your face once more and no longer will a diseased juggernaut guard something which is slowly waning, slowly diminishing within my spirit and soul.

A lightning bolt shall crack the ground beneath us and as we fall farther and farther into the Earth, there shall be a treasure in store for us in the core of the terrene.
Love has become an emboldening and yet abstract concept to me, so many forms, so many ambiguous faces to go along with it.
“Who will it be this time?”

“I don’t understand you but I know deep down inside there is a shining star that shall bloom like a vivid sanguine rose and it’s warding thorns shall beckon a new dawn.”
They will combat the darkness inside of you like a deep wound.
-Tears shall overwhelm you but the change must come.-

By, Iridescently Efflorescent
Poem about a lost love. If you have any feedback, please do not hesitate to let me know. Hope you like! <3
Michael W Noland Sep 2013
Floundering on the brink

The rain storm
Emboldening

Flexing to break free

Go ahead and rain on me
Go and raise the streams

Go ahead and drain from me
Go and take my steam

Splish splash
Gonna change my ways

Pish posh
Better move out the way

Split splat
To the slip slap

This ...
To that

Thunder claps
After the fact

Gon have to pay

Gonna build my base
Goin to make my stay

Gone and done
Going to go away

Wait it out
For a sunny day
Alex Apples Mar 2010
If I were a spirit
I'd be ***
Bittersweet
Or an elf child
Light of feet

If I were a dye
I'd be red
Smoldering
Or a yellow
Emboldening

If I were a bird
I'd be a sparrow
Quite plain
Or an arrow
Restrained

If I were a rock
I'd be iron
Steadfast
Or a tear
Long to last

If I were a gem
I'd be broken
But blinking

If I were a word
I'd be spoken
Not thinking
Nat Lipstadt Mar 31
mine own psalm musings

living between two broad, sea-emptying rivers,
a Majesty’s sentries to mark the differentiation~
division tween divine and a moderate human’s
moderating steps, as his stride shortens as the y/tears
lengthen, and it is accepted as an inevitable musky must,
no matter how the sweet spring day refreshes, the newly
planted trumpeting shards of bright yellows daffodils
pinch his yellowing eyes, few notice the tiny tears of
discrepancies of an annualized emboldening, a grand
heavenly rebirth and a slow man’s body self~editing,
shedding of a life’s~ending~of~story psalm musings


the man looks for the terrible swift sword, but its
failure to grace us with an appearance, is but a
modest disappointment, for a deferred delay is but
a causation to eke out a few mordant, pungent, caustic
reminders of all that is yet to be, to be accomplished,
though the smirking lips of the necessity of yet, one
more unloved poem extant, tilting the Earth’s axis
benevolently toward the open palms of his beneficiaries who
,

you,

are among them numbered, is but, a green shoot in a city’s
hopeful earth planted, by summer, will shed seeds to come
thy way, as an evocation, a good consternation, a joyous
provocation, an asking kingly~gentle, a royal polite inquiry,
would you care to add a a verse to this eternal verse?
before time shreds it too into a yellowed crumpling,
and to the earth it is returned, for the mine of this
psalms is only generic, genetic,  and what is mine is well,


and truly yours too.


nml
<>
March 31, 2024
NYC
9:16am
Sunday Mourning Service
Dawnstar Mar 2019
I know a land of salt
and pepper stalks and moss,
whose jagged, hazy coast
a thousand flowers bears —
of Ireland I boast.

Even now my heart is sick
for a home I never had.
If I were there,
what I would do,
I'll tell to you....

I'd show my love the mountain's nooks,
I'd pounce the foeman's daring rooks,
and plunder every dusty book,
and sleep in emerald vales.
We'd clamber up to a secret cave
and there we'd dwell,
away from the pell-mell,
and fast away in purple robes,
pretending we were noble-born
(for Ireland, we ought to be),
we'd in defiance hunger stave.

See now, her cloud legions marching in step
like flares emerging from the wood.
While horses roam her sunlit plains
and flowers shudder in her breeze;
while puddles form in shallow pools,
my watered mind accustoms trees
of bleak and twisted nature,
on the wild icicle river,
coldly biting my knees.

But here afar away,
there's treasure under every
glistening leaf,
'twixt frond and fern,
bristle and bramble,
and bounding stream.
By daylight,
Eire counts every rock;
at starlight,
assesses her stock.

I know a land
whose greenery bursts
in the morning dew,
and gives hopeful cause
to a hundred generations
of stoic sword-brethren
flashing down the coast,
singing their jolly tune,
as the oak decks are mounted
with freedom's guns
emboldening battle new.

Her amber-gilded name spears through
clouded sea and Cambrian cliff:
if every isle were touched as this!
by saintly light from Atlas' air.
She is the jewel of the isles,
the song of countless souls.
As men march down her
summer roads to meet their
tender-hearted lovers at home in
comfort from callous kings, the
breeze will bring news of another
christening or crossing... for then
each girl will spy him coming, and
make haste to alert the town,
and they will all turn out with joy
to welcome home their darling boy;
to herald the ending of famine and war,
and so they will shout for centuries more!
Michael W Noland Mar 2013
In the end, my eyes may only close, but for what?, i suppose is the question one beholds, when emboldening to a mold, made by simpletons.
Adrija Feb 2016
PROVOKING,
EXCITING,
AROUSING,
ELATING,
EXHILARATING,
COMPOSING,
­INSPIRING,
APPEASING,
STIMULATING,
EMBOLDENING,
COMFORTING.
- a list of things you are to me (a.k.a. why i want you)
Graff1980 May 2019
What drives you to hate
drives them to pain.

When compassion is
just a story
a mother
tells her
children
because life
presents
all evidence
to the contrary.

Man, it is scary.

What drives you to pain
drives some
to remain
vigilant and kind
guarding against
the influence
of malevolent minds.

Ice agents
cut up plastic water bottles
and destroy food
that was left for migrants.

Government officials
put young kids
in cages
while sending their parents
far away,
leaving them longing for a day
that may never come;

Meanwhile, there are people marching
in the name of love
while writers soar above
creating art
to open hearts,
emboldening
other humans
to be better.
Rob Sandman Jul 2019
No frills tonight,I'll tell you why we hold so tight,
to yesteryear and yesterday and...and last ******' night...
before the sky broke open,
lately I'd been vaguely sorta hopin'(not doin ****,just hopin')...
that we'd get the magic back,that we'd bring back all the craic
when it was you for me and me for you again' the world,
I'm starin at the wall my mind aswirl,

Then I'm starin' thru a window to the past
when we KNEW that we would last
forever,never ever fall apart,
never ever pulled apart,
by life and time and ******' work,
we knew we were the ones to make it work!,
and now I'm staring through that window to the past,
like trying to piece a champagne glass,
back together when it's smashed,
I'm kneelin' here with ****** fingers,
tryin' to make these memories linger

REALISIN' how you'll linger there,
your scent...your smile...your shedded hair(seriously I find it EVERYWHERE!)
sorry hon I lost it there(but seriously your frickin' hair!)
your company was past compare,
I close my eyes and see you there,

I pound my fist against the glass
praying that you'll see the danger see the future Nuclear blast,
but you're just blissfully gracefully strolling past,
holding me,enfolding me
emboldening me like nobody past or present ever did or will,
the thrill begat the skill begat the quill of you so deep in me,
thought we were our Destiny.
you're under my skin like a Sinatra tattoo,
but enough bout me...how bout you?
"For the Us that became the Them,
the one that becomes two,
the true that became false,
and those labelled false who were true"
No one hears this or sees it at all
It's not life, sound, or feeling.
It's an absurd apology from an ancestor,
A silent delta supporting static streams,
A breeze displaced from intentional orbit.
On it we float, aimless as little baskets of Moses,
Destined for quarries filled with birth stones,
Passing stables, sprawling into sensible horizons,
Through fields of recirculating whispers, and beyond
The nebulous mountains of abstract memory.
This seismic world divides us, eventually
When we come to the coniferous death:
one emboldening, one defying the sovereign sun,
We lay down our life force--
   -suspending the moments long enough
   -excavating lives lost in massive capsized ships
   -forgiving each other's steps in the inevitable fall
--and rest among the fertile, archived graves.
She visits there, laying a flower on each stone,
Replacing black with yellow, again and again.
An echoing gesture of love for us all,
The drifters outside of sight and sound.
Like anyone, sometimes I can't help but dream that death isn't as bad as advertised, and the dream does sometimes help cure my melancholy.
Sarah Kunz May 2017
You ignite my picnic of a body, bedecked with an assortment of foods too pickled and procured with oddities to ever be pillaged.
You plunge your fingers into my vinegar ****** potato salad and athwart my melonous cantaloupe thighs.
I indulge in your embrace as you engulf in mine.
Two terribly beatitude lovers emboldening the picnics within eachother.
The simonized delight as your hands are the midwives to my parted thighs and my glazed love drenched eyes.
I’ve entered the Inner Passage

Thought of as the safe route to Alaska
Protected by friendly coves and sheltered bays
Shields voyagers from the uncertainties
Of the tectonics of a heaving Pacific

The Inner Passage
A compass point of
Jack London’s imagination
Spinning fantastic adventure yarns
of audacious Sea Wolf sailors
And rugged fortune seekers
Answering the call of the wild

The Inner Passage
Fraught with hidden shoals
And submerged rocky promontories
Lay just below the water line
Jutting on the steep banks
Of a glaciated mountain lined sea

The Inner Passage
Precludes an easy escape
To the boundless freedom
Of the open seas
One cannot sail away
One must firmly
grab the wheel
Guide the rudder
map the terra firma
Of a misconstructed life
The hazards and mishaps
Buried in the unconscious sands of the mind
interred to protect the heart
From the walking ghosts
Springing to life
Emboldening
The daily aches of living

The Inner Passage
Seemingly the safe route
Yet the hidden shoals
The ship wrecks
crews of stranded castaways
Call out for recovery, resurrection,
Watchfulness and recognition
Careful navigation is required
To salvage the wreckage
Rescue the unfortunate victims
Of the disasters and gales
I engendered along
my life's journey

The Inner Passage
A promise of rebirth
Reconstitution, recovery
“Can a man enter the womb again?”
The Gospel writer asks.
This inner passage may yet
Deliver me to a reinvigorated life
Let me uncover
What lies deep
In my tell tale heart
Let me tame
the mighty beasts of the sea
That rule the fathomless waters
Of my tumultuous emotions
May Thy Will and a better course
Heal my restive soul
My I finally free
my grounded vessel
From the false sanctuary
Offered by shallow shoals
Freeing me to dive deep
Into the hidden reefs
Of my heart and mind

May this pilgrim make good progress
May I accept life on life's terms
May I practice a well considered
engaged stewardship
May I never arrive at a staid place
And become wholesomely satisfied
with a serene state of being

The Inner Passage
Indeed a difficult voyage
Is underway
a new course mapped
I will pass through
The dark ranges where the
Commanding heights of
Fear, anger, resent and regret
Become nothing more
Then the precipitous peaks
Of a harmless silhouette
Fading away into the mist
Of yesterday's twilight

The Inner Passage
Aboard the Kennicott
Near Ketchikan, AK
8.22.19
jbm

Michael Nyman
The Piano
a note made on the Kennicott...
habiba Dec 2021
The sun sets, the shadows fall,
A cold breeze, a weathered pall,
A leaf in the wind,
Adrift in the water,
I try not to quake
I try not to falter.

The Leiermann stands three feet in the ice,
Voiceless now, relegated to vice,
Ill-omened, leashed from behind,
We are the warp and weft of time
We are the darkness,
We are the light.

The Caller shall come,
From the Heavens and from the sea,
Abasing, exalting,
Scattering, emboldening,
They who were foremost, they who were last,
Shall bitterly choke on that which has now come to pass,
There will be no refuge from the Light,
No respite, no night.
Sarah Kunz Jan 2017
Every story requires that character.
The zany tenacious fellow brewed so fervid in the condition of human.
Their genuine existence so present it almost feels incompatible in our world so driven by the lacquered shell of "image"
As I watch the corners of your lips lift in fluid motion, my body is splintered in waves of awe.
You are the broth that adds substance emboldening all the buoying ingredients amongst it.
Unbridled by the delusions of society you make the simplest things ignite with magic.
You are the character enchanting my story.
You are the character who is teaching me how love can flourish organically.
You are teaching me to become the scintillating character I want to be.
Thank you for helping me accept the unadulterated character that is me.
Nolan Davis Dec 2016
I stare in the mirror and reflect,
Can't believe this face is my own.
Hypocracies align and intersect,
Muddling everything I've known.
I say I want to be a friend,
Someone who will truly care.
My words I claim until my end,
The badge I choose to wear.

Criticize the acts you do,
The venom drips from my tongue.
Every wrong of yours I knew,
Out in public they are hung.
And I'm not any better,
In fact I'm ******* worse.
Your flaws drive my petty letters,
These jagged lines I write in verse.

And I'm no little choir boy,
My mistakes I'll take to my grave.
But my flaws don't inspire your joy,
Maybe it's my soul I need to save.
But this is not to garner pity,
This is for me to say I'm wrong.
Our paths will cross in this jaded city,
And I want us to still get along.

No more judgment, no more scolding,
I'm moving on from being that guy.
My goal is to be always emboldening,
And let the pilot be the one to fly.
Your potential for greatness is evident,
It's the reason I haven't jumped ship.
But it's time to repay the time I spent,
Firing shots until I emptied my clip.

So this is my apology,
My intentions strayed from being true.
Our stars not aligned in astrology,
But I'll make it up to you.
Take from this what you may,
Do with it what you please.
I've run out of negativity to say,
I just want us to be at ease.
Niel Nov 2020
We harmonize
together sometimes
still, on mountainous hill-
sides, when the winds blow
together and echo through caves,
canyons. Hollow logs. Presented darknesses:
wolves, foxes..    Thieves, betrayers. Energies
are so varied, if only we could download an imprint of their view. What would it seem? I can’t imagine ever being absolute on aspects, ideas, ideals. Anymore at least. I guess that’s
just my current absolute.

I resist, intents I set,
out of cowardice

Fear to unify
Shaken down the road
Solid monad. Brittle tendrils

Sweet the senses, share intense
to procure inclusion, boundless plenties
prone incisions unfold yr own rhythms
emboldening, appreciating in an expansion
pressing, but really, more of a soft glide
of understanding for the thrill
ray Jun 2017
does real love require plan,
when to fall and feel and all
or can we just dance
under this moon that begs me,
this mist that moves me,
descends from mountain sways from skyline
filling every space
as liquid
as ink emboldening some drown up distinction
of love and lust
a shake from my regular cold, just trying to adjust
as if i didn't have to love too late
say the word - and i shall leave,
today,
but today
something about your hands that leaves me tangled in light
kissing same mist of the unspoken
across the stars of this distant night
i want to love you brilliantly,
watch you shine, sing in your arms
risk the feel risk the fall
if love is easy is love worth it at all
noi Jan 2022
I have wandered off the looping trails.
Beneath the canopy I am starved of your love.
I miss the warmth of your kisses upon my glowing skin.
I thirst for your love as it trickles from the darkest recesses of your heart
flowing until it drops off the edge of a weir.
I want to inhabit your unexplored body emboldening myself to traverse
the greatest parts of yourself that you fear.
I would climb the highest trees to see the sun set in your eyes.
As you pull me deeper into you
I am anything but a civilized man.
Ethel Bowmaster Apr 2019
Ebbing and flowing in an endless struggle
The horizon and reality
Most days, far away, but some, dangerously close
On those days, the white of horizon encroaches
Trying to take, itching to eat
The sound of static, disguised as rain
Consuming all other sounds
Reality, though, puts up a fight
Emboldening the colors of the surroundings
As if to say “I’m real, I cannot be destroyed”
The battle ebbs and flows until the horizon again recedes off into the distance
To fight again another day
Bryant Aug 2018
Emulsify​ my fragments with yours
We become puree
Our mixture is pliable and capable of smoothing any blemish

A false sense of durability, like layers of plaster over diminishing foundations

A stern wind sends us to chattering and reduces us to shards

An upside-down jigsaw with so many pieces who's interlocking combinations are infinite and impossible

We beset upon this futile quest with reckless abandoned
Punitive passions emblaze our cornea and deafen our cochlea

These inflictions only intensify our other​ detection receptors
Emboldening our synapses with astroglia most hearty and foolish

In the face of self-imposed adversities; the chortling consumes us
Mole hills spur and contort; vertically and violently
Titanic crags obstructing our path and encumbering our better natures
Yet the giggling continues

Brave men will face death without question, but only those who have tasted oblivion jest at it's expense
When you feast on everything and nothing, imagination and fear are savorless against your palate

Sordid sentinels
Mechanisms, blueprinted in hedonism and swill
Completely ****** by design

We are the crusty plaque in the corners of each others lips
The coke-like residue that accumulates from the burning depletion of our crude resolve

Exhaustion smogs our atmosphere and silts your dermis
The granulation makes you coarse and curt
You find friction in all things
There is no refuge for relief
Even afloat amongst the stellar ylem, the invasive abrasion intercepts your drift

Nothing is sacred!
Nothing is truly yours!

Your inter-most thoughts scream from the windows of their cells

You have been divulged and further more, made completely bare
A sort of ****** where opinions can be made on the hue of your skeletal system
Stark and helpless; sprawled wide
Revealing every tiny nook of your crevices, giving breath and larynx to your insecurities

A vivisection

The young men and women gather around the respiring corpse
Every deffect will oust it's cause
A foreign recollection of your story
Quivering and flinching under the pressure of a razor thin plane

Blankly, they stare like bipedal bovine
Sweetness and sorrow is wasted on them
They only seek silence for the deft and ******* for the blind

Now! both have been provided!
Niel Nov 2020
Business stains and I’m partially a napkin.
Or is it?. Can’t decide either way.
The moment aren’t too for it anyhow.
The mountain drive is so alive with soggy
Nights of living in a pent up tent.

We reached it on a back road,
      I’d hardly call it bushwhacking
Slave drivers move in and you find
       out it was yr personality
all along

The beach were *****
        Crawling, sinking, lifting foes, the victor.
Speaking of subspecies and kin. As professor has.
         Spells of nausea in the back party
        Sorting through the masters
          Seeing whom is served most devotionally
Bhakti, la-la, la la la!
              Present moment I am all..
I am all
I am all, I am all

Lifting fingers place a spell
And webs form out like destiny
Water serving through the flames
Emboldening, triumphantly exploring understanding.

Lifting fingers, for an empty shelter
‘It was crazy what was said through me, it almost sounded..but it wasn’t.’
And then we  cross it, move things
around a bit, losing yr place
Slightly, cautioning; to feel through the mess

Plenty are, and simply so that I short circuit, Everytime
sheila sharpe Feb 2022
You want so desperately to believe
that this
so carefully ruled white line
fresh as ****** snow
pure against the silver
browning to the lighter’s flame
this first ignited onrush of confidence
emboldening you
with the awakening you dream of
will open up
take you into a land where
you will be the ruler
but
here is the base line
it will ultimately lay bare
emptiness
a white yet colourless
sterile salt desert of numbness
and you will seek
that white line
forever more
drug dependency
Love is a feeling immeasurable
That conquers all that is miserable:
It is the loftiest of mountains
And the most beautiful of fountains;
It separates life from death
And is the wellspring of immortal breath;
Love has no boundaries, no limits;
Infinite are her bountiful merits;
Ceaseless is her guiding light,
Emboldening the meek with spirit bright,
Strengthening the weak with tremendous might;
Grasping firm the titles and deeds of right;
It is her path to tread softly
On the lives of those who would seek her truly,
And to spread her wings over all
Who long to be numbered within her stall:
As I gaze upon the depthless skies,
Encountering the mysteries before my eyes,
I know the secret that's there above:
It is the watch of sacred Love.
kfaye Jan 23
we are that longrunning society of graverobbers
and with every stitch,we all amalgamate true horrors out of each other .emboldening the regurgitated fears of the dead and thedying.the salted roads,crisp up the cold and crystalline paths forward .beside your dehydrated, astronaut-food smile_and (never)dog-mother eyes
.i am the patina over all creased things
.i am the creases

— The End —