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Ceramic white, wood richly brown
Smooth liquid....touching buds of taste
Lips chasing chatter, slithering slogan sentences
Arm reaching, lift off, exposing the pit, selecting
Combination to the gestured shape, proposing
Enlivening, trickling conversation tripping
To my left.  A phone, pressing snugly, ear
Tuned up, alerted, filtering the microwave
Throng.  With welcome warmth, thaw began
Icy film packaging a heart temporarily beat
Free, playing, fraternising.....roulette with Russia
Innermost recesses of one's soul
animation of heart's portal
spring of undertaking long lasting
forging life in wondering pace
looking beyond to the level of satisfaction
indeed a contentment beyond self
working in harmony with others
truly fulfilling feats of such humanity
truly enlivening one's unimulitiverse
Nigel Morgan Sep 2012
‘There’s definitely a story here’, she said that evening over the telephone. They’d been sitting in Trevelyan Square in Leeds. He’d brought a picnic lunch so they could sit in the sun. When he arrived at the station she wasn’t wearing her glasses and he thought, I only see her like this in bed or . . . and he stopped that thought immediately because she looked so very lovely and he knew he would only have a couple of hours as her companion before work and children reclaimed them both. They’d sat on a bench eating his salad confection, apricots and nectarines. They forgot about the rock buns he’d baked the night before. Just in front of them sat four hounds, four stone hounds with staring eyes and  very large paws sitting in a circle, four Talbot Hounds with water gushing from their mouths, four just larger than life-size handsome hounds commissioned by Joseph Edwards for the courtyard of his mansion at Castle Carr and, when the house was demolished in the 1940s, had disappeared. The hounds turned up in the 1970s in a stone-mason’s yard and an enterprising architect – building the Open University’s northern HQ - bought them for Trevelyan Square. As he sat there, with the water-spouting dogs, it was only her gracious, lovely self that occupied his attention. Why does she captivate me so ?, he thought. Why do I always feel with her like I did as a teenager, so unsure of myself, so overwhelmed by the female presence (he thought as he wrote this how often that word overwhelm came to mind when he wrote of her, and so checked the Thesaurus . . . hmm. Besieged, snowed-under, inundated, beleaguered, weighed down, beset? No, overwhelm was the only word he decided – she whelmed him over as a wave rises up and cresting falls and turns and rolls the swimmer beneath it.). It was, he considered, her femininity that was so particular and just embodied everything he’d ever dreamed and fantasized a woman might be, could be for him. He knew he’d thought and written of this aspect so often, and yet today, here with the sandstone dogs, there was a intensity, a vividness enlivening his senses. Without her glasses he could see the lines, indeed a shadow of fatigue, under her eyes, simply too much time with the computer perhaps. So she looked older, always wiser, and oh the joy of her freckles, the faint down on her cheek. And when, later, saying goodbye, he didn’t just kiss her gently as a good friend would do in a very public place, but brought her to him in an embrace that something outside of his usual careful manner required. He had hugged her with a passion and a joy and sadness all in one. On the train, a text, and he had suddenly to hide his tears that it could be so. He would write about those hounds . . .
Since the beginning of 2012 I've written a 'daily paragraph'. I know I often push the paragraph  beyond its syntactical limits . . . but it's a good way to write something every day.
Jessica Ainley Mar 2012
Wellies crunch through the snow
Leaving footprints as I go.
Children’s laughter fills the air
Enlivening souls everywhere.
You can taste their ecstasy
As they slide down the hills next to me.

It’s a sugar-coated wonderland
I nearly slip, quick! Grab Mummy’s hand!
Pick up some snow and make it round
Flies as high as a bird before it hits the ground!
We build a snowman, up it goes
Make sure there’s a carrot for the nose!

Toes in wellies have turned to ice
Tea and biscuits would be nice.
But look at the beam on her face
Dancing around with so much grace.
Weatherman was right, more is falling
Heavier and heavier, warmth is calling.

Look! Look! It’s a blizzard
Maybe it’s the magic of a wizard!
Shiver, shiver, my lips start to quiver
The water has frozen, lets skate on the river!
Time to go, tummy’s rumbling
Mummy slipped! There she goes tumbling!
TinaMarie Feb 2012
Voluntary abandonment of self
The offering
Surrendered,  Often suffered
Daily suppression
Repressed depressions
The stimulating surge for another's light
The refuge and the motivator
Demonstratively strong, innate or acquired
Inner beauty enhanced through struggle
Outer beauty revealed
in the journey of each line and curve
Made better with time

Reemerging

Stepping into confidence
Unapologetic
Wisdom gained, lessons learned
Archived in her cerebrum repository
Self discovery, discernibly aware
With nothing to lose
Bashfulness dismissed
Enlivening pleasures
Guiding and coaxing another to please
Self satisfying if need
An awakened spirit rebounds
An eager voice is found

A woman

Over 40

Blazing anew.


© Tina Thompson
Spring
Effervescence
Picturesque
Tones
Energetic
Marvelous
Bright
Enlivening
Ravishing
It is Springtime, in the Down Under Land.
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2023
“the unbound unbinding: an admixture of words and swords…
that will cut a newborn cord of reciprocity of thee and me,
miracle!
thereby, an unbound binding that ties and frees us from
and connects us nonetheless by our shared senses…”

<!>
these words, recalled well,
for they but a newborn issue of a few days, and the notion of binding that
frees us into reciprocity yet buzz~hums
in my brain

the contradictory nature of a cutting
which ties us together,
that an unbinding binds us even more tightly,
I struggle, to better understand the nature how an unraveling
of our connection somehow ties us closer

but re-envisioning
Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel in my mind’s eye,
that sparking space tween God’s finger outstretched
to bring the enlivening of his spirit to His first enervate, Adam,
the original of we humans,
somehow sates my confusion

to touch each other
at the most primitive basis,
we require a space
between us, in order to fulfill,
a contract contact
of completion and binding


and this bestills and bestirs
my puzzlement,
a space electric necessary
to permit us to
close the human circuitry

!and I am contented,
the contradiction
no more, I sense the
need to close gaps
tween us certify our human resources
for it is the permanent invisible grasping
of our loving minds that transcends
overpowers gaps,
bringing tears of joy to my eyelids,
even as I write these words,
and greet this morning
with
optimism
that every space
brings a richer
closure!
!
9/16/2023
9:48AM
Debra A Baugh Feb 2013
his voice beguiles me, weakening me
in whispered warmth of breath, fingers
trace trembled want of hungry lips

tasting me...

Closing my eyes; I arch into need of
his touch, his voice of seduction breathes
against skin, teasing me

licking my tremors...

I moan in ache, my ripple upon his tongue,
my essence rises lingering within his mouth;
roughly kissing me and I kneel before him,
taking him in slowly suckling; tasting him tip
to pearls licking his veined pendulum swirling
in warmth, vigorously in out

loving his shudder...

he whispers as his fingers tenderly tweak ******
softly, inebriating my senses; aroused horniness,
entering my paradise, firmness weaves flesh in
breathless swells, igniting our twine; like tongue
licking heat of mouth

pulsing in wetness...

searing between open thighs, I ache for his plunge
engraving me, knotted within his arch; deluged in
fluidities flush as lips brush, tongue trails taut nips,
I blush beneath his fiery breath, still teasing

rocked to my foundation...

unraveling me in utter passion, our bodies aching;
assuaging yearn, calming quivers in wet want;
shuddering each abraded ******, loving its aftertaste
in trembled release enlivening; our lust still entwined

within wet ecstasy...
Judy Ponceby Oct 2010
With a flourish of my pen I set fire to the paper.
Enlivening it like a god creating a caper.

Words flow like wine from my synapses,
Form images in mind's eye without lapses.

Saturn may rotate like a ring on a string.
Far be it from me to question fair Jupiter's ring.

Expansive words conveying vast universes.
Ideas, concepts, phrases, and curses.

The whales they must sing, the birds they will cry,
My voice from within is written with pen as I am so shy.
For "Can you spare a Word or 5?"
down on her knees
beseeching
pleading for it to arrive
days without
a meager amount
she was dying
as time did pass
to be endowed
in it's refreshment
towards the heavens
her hands
were stretched
asking so earnestly
for the opening of clouds
to replenish
her core so dry
ecstasy
had abandoned
her terrain
gone was it's  life giving
dampness
which would allay
her anguish and pain
arid she'd been all summer long
twas too long a period
being bereft
of those quenching drops
her ground so dusty
and so lifeless
she pined
for the sweet moistening
to fill her with enlivening streams  
a band of richly laden clouds
came as she pleaded
to the sky once again
she implored in desperation
to be saturated
monster spots of rain
poured down
which so soothed her landscape's crust
enthralled
was she to be in  receipt
of it's wetting balm
long she'd made supplications
to the sky
for her ground
had been excessively dry
on her knees
and with her hands stretched
to the heavens
on high
the sky bequeathed
her it's deliverance  
as her death
was drawing ever nigh
many interludes of laughter pealed
from a jovial kookaburra
who sat high on the elm tree's branch
gaily chortling to himself
as the dawning sun rose
of such merry tidings
the bird did bring
uplifting
was his
joy
######
he'd
given
the new day
a jolliness
the mood of much glee
making his chuckling tones
the sound great to listen to
enlivening the heart's spirits
with a bright awakening call
ever so happy in the morning staging
Chimera melons Jul 2011
Late was the hour of becoming
those zigzagging cracks up the faded plaster watched like little snakes
calm witness a resurrection akin to biblical import
alone  secondstory bedroom filled by  distant company
heiroglyphs miraculous sudden translation speaking the sacred tongues of fire
our hearts beating the miles away shortened with every word
an offering blessed and given by minds touching fingers touching keys to invisible locks
turning turning rusty engines purring cats smug smile
yes and yes and yes lost islands bridged by joint effortless task
a torn off mask and a question asked
eternity snuck into momentary clouds parted with blooms of lightnings flash flood food for the spirit
children laughed where they couldn't be heard
the earth sang along with tropical birds
this welcome radiant gift in my chest cavity spreading quickening enlivening
a sturdy reminder recalling vigor not found in any common tonic
simple conversation a conversion of salt water to diamond sparkling fervor
rejoice drank its sweet juices staining the lips drips warming two hearts
a chance found true its mark
bullseye
it will be unstolen saboteurs tricked submitting their swords to strong hands arming guardian angels
this joy travels well past all hours
comforting dreams that sleep undersea in gold spiraling towers
wanderer heat old bones leave the cold leave all pains
pouring out poisons to make bows out of rain
Chad Young Nov 2020
"A" crowned my head with a crown like
twigs while "A" was seated on the Throne.
Notice how Baha'u'llah reverberates that it is a different
throne, yet in essence the same One.
Fire like a rainbow.
Notice how a Prophet would gulp when another Prophet is
"mentioned".
Notice how a Prophet does not need to "believe" in else
except God.
"C" is same.
If I am a Prophet without a voice from God, please
don't let me speak.
All the Prophets have transparent beauty like
"C".
Above the City of Immortality is the Valley of
the Manifestations.  Where the Sun of Reality
is home and all the denizens are refreshed
and find God again from whence they have
left.  Nothing but God lies above this Valley
and the Presence of the Beloved is aglow
....in every limb.
The Presence is enlivening and heavy
in vitality.
"I hate you, I love, I hate that I love you",
echoes to hearts not attune to the Transcendent One.
The Presence has a unique energy that allows
Them to change the universe of lower natures.
All stresses dissipate away.
Those Eyes that see all of me.
Energy as if from another world,
as if always awakening from bed.
It is sitting in the Manifestation's Tent.
It is feeling Their skin become mine own skin.
Light so warm that it is cool.
Names have no place here,
only Spirit - the Transcendent.
I forget myself and
instead caught up in "A".
The fullness of the Manifestations will soon, soon
manifest in all of us.
24 karat Golden DNA.
Dear Venus of my Heart,

The Solstice of blue, once flourishing with fiery flowers red, the petals of our garden froze. The chimney of our cabin of dreams, ambitious as Alexander's attainments, pops with the fog of the remnants of heat. We used to defy the now frozen roaring raging river of time and drink from the abstract notion of forever. For me, it felt like years embracing the elation of our entangled hearts, despite the days that went by. But reality is a grey mirror, and, in a hoard of wretched ways, I wronged you. Our Ecstasy, even extremely enlivening, was fleeting in behalf of my secret despair.

Imagine I a long-lasting love, a motto that guards me of any break. An unpierceable vowel, a couple for life, to live like lions loyal, bold and courageous yet entwined. So, to pour my emotions akin to the biblical flood and undergo an Ophelia, or even a Mimì, to subversion it distresses me. The motivations of mine may map me as an adamant, but I am a romantic, a believer of one true love. I just worry my machine shall yield to the snap of the edge and the ever yearly youthful yearning of restless consummation repels me. While passion is the feeling of the flesh, love is the feeling of the soul; one mate shall be fate. And my soul longs for you in spite of the lonely length that loosens our bonds.

Thus, out of my outrageous offense, I repent. I lament my vanity, this vividly voracious scruple of kissing way before and tragically after the priest's last words without a care for the bride. I apologize for this erroneous early enamor and the ceaseless insistence to the raw departure, leaving echoes of you in pictures of us. But now alas is time for my final parting, to let go because move on I shall. Heart breaks for heart's sake.

Forever and always,
H

PS: The fog shrouded our cabin of dreams. I feared going back to our place. But doubt no longer clouds my view, so I cleared the mist. Still, the chimney's black stains cannot be cleaned. Hope for this house rests on its grave. However, a new home is just around the corner. It is up to you to build it with me. I will be waiting.
This poem is a love letter to the person the previous two pieces were written for. It establishes that I finally found a way to move on and ends the first chapter of the anthology. From all the poems in it, this was actually the last one I wrote. Luckily, I actually got to reconnect with the recipient, yet I have not shared my poems with her.
Zy Marquiez Oct 2010
Our passions awaken within the palms of a cherub
Enraptured with twinkles that blanket the night sky
Now they share forever these chaste divine flames
As our hearts fuse intimately in the sweetest lullaby

Soaring then the Heavens on your soft gentle wings
We gaze at the world in this breathtaking journey
Amorous sensations absorb the core of our beings
Laying the foundation for the passion we shall see

Hypnotic stars glisten from both your precious eyes
Captivating my very essence, which already is yours
A euphoria of joy overtakes my heart at this time
Enlivening my heart while within you it then soars

The Sun’s golden rays beam upon your sultry gems
Exotically glowing with your very lustrous appeal
Fruitful with life they shine forth with your essence
Which bursts within mine sharing passions we feel

Your alluring smile shackles my heart with precision
Invigorating it spiritually with the passions we share
Our passions escalate quickly in a tornado of ecstasy
While our souls hold each other rising as they blare

Harmonious skies prepare for both our souls to arrive
In this tornado of ecstasy that we ride with pleasure
Perfumed with fragrances that exude from within you
As our love-filled winds ascend us upon our treasure

The sky breaks in two ruby-spirals, which mimic us
Blissfully surreal with each our existences enamored
Warming pulsations echo throughout all of Heaven
Seeping from our hearts into the Heaven we explored

Romantic melodies echo through the farthest regions
Thereafter resonating from our hearts to our dreams
Locked now in place is our commitment to each other
As the pinnacle of our Love has reached new extremes
K Mae Jul 2013
cycling and recycling
devotion to remotion
a spiral past  a comfort blast
well known save our rewriting
yet here we tumble on
to spiral all unknown
  fresh emotions rising
  potent and enlivening
Thanks to Maria, for permission to use this word "remotion", from her poem Intervening Space.
Ross Robbins Aug 2011
Today, feet over leaves as teeth raked over
egg shells, ankle stabbing pain, *******
could cut diamonds—it’s fall.

Today, tears over cheeks as snow whipping
over tundra, reddening eye—but hey, for
these shrinks I’m a living—it’s Hell.

Today, smiles over cutting, I try it once in
a while, enlivening head, and yes—it’s
cheesy to be happy—all’s well.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2023
Look once more,
look back and see the way, to now
from
when reason first was used
to master the frame
of mind, embodied, as mine,
informed with shapes of things solid,
shapes of things inside,
shapes of thing outside,
shapes of thoughts stacked in sequence,
after the hallelujah,
as per holy orders of worth appraisal,
services rendered,
magic performed,
life administered, for another week,
any body can handle one more week.
After the hallelujah.
learn that definition once, and you never
see sequential activity in ritual
as before,
magic effectuation, affection, as joy
one mindful, chewy, gustatory morsel,
of child-like faith, to be conserved.
Conservatively speaking,
Whig-wise, knowing one's prepositional relativity.
We labor, not in vain… to become worthy
to tread, with shoes, on streets of gold.
where milk needs no cow, and honey bees
never need be busy all day.

Riches and sweets, both
take more than either promise, aimed at
via entertain-mental mmm-usings tight
at tension, mind's time spaced taut
edge of me, edge of mine,
edge of ever aimed at
thus far… where we suffer this is so…
- measured timespace in mind agone…
Then we live through the last now, to die.

Becoming the author, fisher for being bubbles
afloat in ever after all.

At my funeral. To spare the hassle, imagine.

Friends and loved ones,
most are dead, or far away;

but we recall times, vague days
incidents for which we each hold bits,

instants, reality instantiated, pastense,

feel the kiss, feel the shame, the joy,
the hope, the loss, the win, the terror,
the truth of no perceptible way,

away from quit.
--------------

Infancy instants, perhaps, we guess,
we recall being babes, for briefest
recollections of perceptions kept, some how

to be reformed from shards of information
stored some where in an image of a moment

seen from the frame of a seer, not me, seeing
me, infant me, tossed and caught by a laughing
man in a sailor suit…

and, the oddity, of the singular infantile memory
stored some where for reconstruction, living
entertainment…

like unto Agricultural Entertainment, an art form
ancient as harvest festivals,

when locals picked the orchards, and our worlds
were edged in otherwise wild hedge rows,
where little creatures live at child level,
where words miss heard give stories twists,

too odd to be retold while holding any of the small
awe, aw, so sweet, too dear to let be meaningless,
but
as truth been told,
mean is bad in dogs and men, mean is bad in mankind,
mean is common,
mean is most common,
mean is measured, granted
mathematical reality, mind my means, you know
"intend, have in mind;"
Mental meaning application, folded man-kind wise…
Sometimes connected to root *men- (1)
"to think,"
which would make the ground sense of man
"one who has intelligence,"
but not all linguists accept this.
Liberman, for instance, writes,
"Most probably man 'human being' is a secularized divine name"
from Mannus [Tacitus, "Germania," chap. 2],
"believed to be the progenitor of the human race."

~~~~~~~~

Institutional minds, adapted from drama,
worn like Superman's or Bishop Sheen's cape.
Übermmench, **** sapien augmentacious,

**** habitus, us, as we think, we are.
We are no other way,
as a man thinketh truth, as a mind may think,
fine, so is he, in his own mind, right or not,
limited fineness, judged, discerned, quarkishly
ever finer, to this very point,
where mind being time being comes to mind,
in you.
We, momentarily, agree, aggressive face to face
point, fair call
at the inner edge of the inverse square
practical fractal constant…
gravest of issues, at thought
speed of intention to grasp. Percept perceive
link touch… flowing listing seeping soaring

bemused become
amused and entertained, feeding on ensamples,
as sorted characters,
defined societal aspirational imaginal
roles in reality aboard 1950's era Spaceship Earth.


Standing, unbowed, before kings,
bowing before mean men, thinking

all ya'll are said to be created, made
equal…
valued worthy
of opinion expressed as yours, as
wings put on wishes, shoes on prayers,
for warding reaching pulling pushers
-list as wind, in cognitive bias, right
lean as wild grasses launch new seed,
- double helix, twisting up
- from down,
feel massive missal push us on,
orbital, for a lifetime,
be maker of a being bubble
be a minding creating creation,

as weighed in balance, or mass, as gold
or wind in force testing wills for making

a way, where no way was.
Dead end. No way from now, but through.

Wind beneath my down swung pinions,
lifting my imaginal self over my useless

wait state, ever learning, never learning
the whole truth we are sworn to tell,
as soon as
we begin to see as others see, subject,
object
seer
seen seeing, saying

we may be minders of findings, guardians
set to watch,
set to see,
set to say look this way, these invisible limits

terminal connection looping past through
you
as my word choices,
pass the blood brain barrier and pierce
eternal you, in stasis.

- ---------------
- post radio war, not so long ago

"how ' we gonna keep 'em down
on the farm, after they've seen Pairee?"
- enter the era of the salesman
Total war, full power propagation of faith,
in practice, words are empty, meaning
is made- hate festered pride
of whiteness, same color as the rich, qualia
as equally mistaken in terms we call common,
****** speech of the non-reading classes,
stupid peasants, children of useless men.
Lower by far than, Biblical men
of the baser sort. Belial's
sons of total depravity,
two rungs lower than average
working classes, labor, any collared man willed
to pay sweat for bread and circuses.
And a dry, warm place to sleep.

Man, the reasoning creature, is what he eats.
Man does not live by bread alone.

Imagine grooming a gimp, from puberty.
Imagine Michael Jackson, "the kid is not my son!"

Look out, Howard Bloom. Duck.
Watch the boy do a thousand shoulder shrugs.
See the fantasizing worth of awe in focus, this
is us,
we paid to see the man perform, in a role made
from lies a child uses
to make just now,
reasonable, just
cause,

I can, I have power given me by Life, look,
who can imagine being the fan,
aw, man,
nobody longs to be
in the nosebleeds, being there
is not being you,
when all you can become has become true.
Just imagine,
fakes never make it.

And truly a big tragedy to be avoided, next.

We interview… the biggest nobody,
an entity insisting formless information imagines
bubbles of being limited
-- some strings of pearls rolled up

roll into little *****
of gnoshit pearls, treasure true, in essence
from dried gnosisnot. These we cast not to pigs.
To think a readers reasons
for writing, become one
of the rare breed born
to become readers
of one thousand books, once before you die.

------------------
If Warhol made action seem so mundane,
might I not make fun seem so slow a function
to make perfectly reasonable,
picking a fight with a lie,
because I can… being created equal to that task,
I can recognize lies I told,
I know where the handles are, I know what holds
the handle to the secret meaning of things,
can seem material, where free will
is culture locked as impossible.
Thingo no hypo.
Action movie, opening sequence,
as liturgical as any measured reassurance,
enter in, become the entertained,
we live in another realm, we only play at
while being entertained, we only watch roles

being presented for judgement,
test your will to link a mind projection,

from a former time shaped mind, aimed
at drawing an audience, a crowd,
all agreeing upfront to pay
for the mirror neuronic stims,
in a darkened room filled with fools such as I.

Who allows possible a gunfight with ***'s,
at goal-to-go range, taking five minutes,
and no named characters die,
all blood is non player blood,
only a child's mind never exposed, flash,
allows that to feel real, for five minutes,
into a nonreal mindtimespace
reality
of ever once,
and ever after, onces

such as once, seeing a gun in your face,
once hearing the bang, from a gun in your hand,
once
upon
recalling that was a movie, and I never killed a man,
but by osmosis, I imagine I can see
how hate
works the same as ******.
Relax.
Recall the unbelievableness.
--- so what are silent action movies feeding,
young Aldous Huxley, a bright well educated lad.
{We are all alphas}
-----------
"His uniqueness lay in his universalism.
He was able to take all knowledge for his province."
-------
Only a rich man's son may so say.
Even, as limiting to level, if such leveling
evens the odds, serves to increase resolve
to square the circle and fix pi to simple, once
and
for
all. As events in the heaven occur, fractally

added in fine ality… at you, dear reader, enlivening me.
Infinitely, relative to yesterday.

Of course, comic books count. As in the future,
classic video games shall seem poetic code.
I appreciate the reader's task more than the writer's. Writing is easy, reading what you write from the outside is the reader's task, unless it feels like a game.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2013
You Gonna be Cursed, Ain't Nothing You Can Do...

Dedicated to those who understand
That if you look at life askew,
Then your head will likely be
******* on straight and your
Poetry will set you free
And help me too, stay that way

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


You are refrained, restrained,
Unconsciously, the wire inserted right thru
Your eyes when wide awake and
You sucker, oblivious, clueless are...


When older you'll blah blah blah,
Understand, realize,
Cause you will be accursed
With cautionary tales,
Wisdom from cowardly fools,
Familiar with the stupor of life,
a/k/a, experience,
Symptom but one, over-caution.

With the caution that comes from
Stubbing your toe, losing your job oh no,

Getting ****** the night before before,
The most important day of whatever more,

Marrying the wrong woman cause,
You can't find the one with secret sauce
Enlivening your boredom with a secret whoredom
To anything but her, you, a not-so-secret serf.

Go the safe school,
Or pretend you're a rebel with pink streaks,
But that's b.s. too, self deluding
Real rebels only come one way,
Demeanor modest, keep your eyes on the
Quiet ones who run around happy when raining.

Cockeyed, squint, then you'll see it straight,
***** you, experience,
You take so much more than you give,
But most of us ***** don't know it till is
Gad **** way too late.

Preaching cause I am the fool
Biggest, sacrificed 30 years of misery
Afraid to apple cart, slept alone for decades,
Till I found the right one who before you,
Here, have embraced, repeatedly.

So when read your heartbreak hotel songs,
So weary-laden, no future foreseen,
Think of this, the only pain,
This heart break of failed love
Y'all write of, so oft,
Is the chiefest exception to this curse.

Live and love are one and the sane,
Love lose pain love again, dangerously,
Do it over and over, unstintingly,
Get experienced,  but never cautious,
Fail, fail, never cease to be edgy.

**In this endless struggle stay involved,
No pause button, no recess,
For when the love accident happens,
There are no words I possess to
Adequate communicate,
The euphoria of having thrown caution
In the garbage can, next to its ******* cousin,
Experience.
This written over the last two hours while waiting for the M31 bus on Madison Ave and E.57 St., getting my hairs cut and other such chores.
Ergo, written in a passionate haste, without
caution, its crude rude verse reflect the anger that lurks underneath. Sub later I'll fix it up. Sometimes you want to share when it's fresh...more importantly, listen to the voice saying, go for it...
I thought of love today
All those words in my mind’s eye
Imploring me to feel sad
Being had is bad too
Our cries
Our sighs
Tears falling on silky thighs
Her dancing lightly as a fawn
Unto a grim dawn
The princess bright
Enlivening our sight
Crossing the Bridge of Thorns
******* on a Golden unicorn
Until despondent
penitent
Heart rent
Life spent
And out of words
The birds take me
Forwards to heaven
I put in lots of words that sound a bit similar but don't necessarily make sense. Random Caps too. The only hearts I want to see are those already on life support. Criticism is welcome. This poem is not copyrighted and can be published whole or in part by anyone who likes a good glass of wine and a laugh
Rikki Aug 2014
IV
where we live
in our temples
we light lanterns

so many plants,
gathered and dried
placed carefully
smoldering

the rising smoke
allows us to see the low
trembling

more pervasive than a wind
a bounty of your spirit
enlivening, riotous,
and your own universe
of kindness

we can never know what to expect
but we like what we are hearing
Hanson Yang Sep 2018
you'd know if ******* with you, you're only ******* with precise time
taking all that my heart can take, i'm losing pace so rerise mine
thinking that now that is true is that of the past is concedence of back
i'll ****** you ******* talking like if i didn't know my own being collectively, i warn your future like i say again, i'll ****** you ******* like ratting you out in packs
pack the steel rather than back was feel, what that, "I'll ****** you *******" like if mine was real
hype poppin **** like if was women was owned
i'll display the images of the future like sacred ideas of your own rabbit assed mind'll condone,
I'll ****** you ******* cuz it's a balance,
you feel pulse in ambivalence so stop poppin attitude cuz you're raising me wrong redeeming forgiveness in balance
you muthafuckahs gotta know you're living in soul like you were ever alive in my home
******* with all of my phones, i'll belt your *** like i owned every satellite sat saturn turned up when i'm burned up when you're ******* with all of my phones standin
capacity roam your tenacity's shown every capacity at being stolen of my life like all finalities owned
mistakenly like balance you're shortening truth as each different wife is being lied to indepently told
my capacity growth is closer to death now that my finalities owned
redeem it like i didn't reveal em ****:
so your now reading everything dear closer to you now cuz you're enlivening ****
Julian Jan 2016
Sidereal gaze enriches casual lays beneath the shimmering firmament
Glorified passions is the indignity of benighted scars and brandished armaments
Scour with the owls proctoring over the night for signs that penetrate the tight
That ooze new light and wage an epigamic fight
Temptress like a mainlined ecstasy enlivening a heightened empathy
Our love towers above suburban muses and urban ruses
It showers with meteoric power and consummate flowers that it chooses
The misfortune of star-crossed affections
Is the serendipity of empowering but inclement afflictions
Impenetrably vast like a cavernous space
To make us tremble in insignificance at the petty rats that race
Our lambent passions erupt with paroxysms immune to an unbuttoned snooze
Oneiromancy glistens with prophetic eternities dreamed awake with inordinate *****
Playful jostles and succulent pretended jilts lionize our blessed fates
We reckon with eternity by adducing modernity at its current rate
We disavow transient objections just like gravity impounds its own weight
Courtesy of AskJeeves, and a special acknowledgement
to the Google search algorithm, this anachronistic Travelocity gent
lee blog, a factual fictitious vignette takes add Vonage of Samsung viz Clark Kent
incredible computer software programs and sturdy Mainframe he kin lent.

Bass sic Lee (this savvy poetic end-user) opted incorporating what he doth **** sitter
tubby both thee hottest n coolest common bots unseen that ping and skitter
n thrive within binary bitmap digital boot not embittered nor iz he a quitter
as unseen electronic/ microscopic realm, whar can tweet and twitter.

Since a countless number of applications constitute the hum maze zing
information superhighway (thank you Al Gore), this computer addict plucked on a wing
n broken kin prayer juiced a random sample per significant thing
hearty soulful itty bitty byte size flickr patented technological silent ring
tone signaling data communications packets fueling hand held devices did ping.

So many automatic, cryptic, esoteric…et cetera fiber optic pulsating stupefying vectors cross, twas impossible but to winnow down the selection process, in virtual sector
which smattering of Apps countless twenty first century human projector
where computer applications anachronistically don the following epistle like nectar
I Trump pet smart word smith re: scrivener effecter.

Shiloh Golong and describe, which Apple of my eye (amidst all the Core **** sans millions of equally omitted, yet equally appealing, enlivening, incorporating Wans
et cetera populate virtual reality) resonated within Chrome moe so mull Bing vans.

Skype in n Angry Bird n If ya need to take Avast break please Compaq to this Century21, Foursquare kilometers from Instagram Pennsylvania, who (despite kiss
sing eternal Allianz with the fountain of youth) witnessed The Birth of Cosmos - hiss
story give or take a million years, and can remember when Geico caveman dis
cover Victoria’s Secret how to make fire,
   which kept warm re: covergirl company in this now over lit Circuit City amiss.

This Earthlinked, Googly eyed (brown), Hotmail wannabe doth dwell in Dell a where valley thinking About such notions as: Airgas, Comcast, Excelon…. Veer
eye sin plus responding to interpersonal classified advertisements x spear
ment tang feigning tube be a bachelor.
   Hoop ping to dance with female stars purportedly accidently twerking ma rear.

Oh…Methinks a desperate gal from Ashley Madison, AdultFriendfinder, Badoo,
or purdy than from any other website fancies friend ship with this nebbish, goo goo
doll doting generic goofball perchance seeking somebody aesthetically attractive ta moo

Va the bowels of mein kempf imagination, thus envision, a slight shift in action Lifelock drama as fealty to fair *** necessitates discerning whom rapping or mebbe a mock
MineCraft softly (echoes SoundClound) infuse this creaky body limp as a wet sock
with a sudden jolt to beat a path to the door fast as greased lightening shard o rock.

Hmm…the sudden ruse to quick forge an invisible IdentityGuard  axe like a KickStarter, a throwback to those glorious atavistic arboreal days when fate did ensure tartar
sauce appeasing Plentyoffish edenic, idyllic, and lipstick Joyus ness n warder.

To quench thirst, now dear Rabbit Reader (unwelcome Reddit news hints
struggling to hastily springme to action upon my super attenuated like gooey mints
noggin Natwest ted yet will be let down upon discerning what issues **** as quince- rat…tat…tat…ring…ring…ring.” oh my dog – psyche does wince.

Campbell soup and please pardon moi while pullup these gangly limb
and attend to an unexpected interloper. All ike kin manage to mutter Kim
Kardashian - nothing amuse zing- comprises “oh sh…sh…Jim
me John, Shutterfly, Keeblers, Aldies, and quickly experiencing him
a lay ahs aka, the sensation of falling into an abysmally cold welled bank

Argh! Dave and Buster (two super tramping security details impossible to contact
on this Blizzard besotted day. While thoughts whir like Buzzfeed. Donald redact ******* blitz, he anoints himself styled ace of spades. Figurative cards stacked
when Sarah Palin, pledged gubernatorial endorsement Survey Monkey tracked
opposition, outliers immediately banished when the angel of Merck whacked

me upside the BirchBox size head n OkCupid (the one perched and Twitter on me right shoulder prods me to tell the truth, This har Motley Fool (holed up in his actually quite confesses to be a mailer daemon whose Pinterest constitutes prevaricating a kooky plight
while athwart his abode, which Orbitz a Chrome colored sun light

Whence, he (sometimes called Mac) keeper of this Oculus Rift;
SnapChatting with renown architects About MapQuest ting plans Lyft
ed for a SolarCity alone in the Whirled Wide Webbed wilderness a grift

Tor from Lake Woebegone, where all the women strive tubby on Youtube,
the children  Facebook endlessly amidst the global tract of teenage wasteland, ****
Rick hating, and every GoDaddy inquires WhatsApp while puzzling Rubik’s cube.
Kelley A Vinal Nov 2014
Ice blue, fluorite lights
Brisk and windy Autumn nights
Trees silhouetted against beautiful sights
Lights reaching fantastic UFO heights
A shiver away from icicle, frozen
Buoys float on water in space wide open
Life letting leave on those things broken
Water lapping shores like lava molten
Whispers in rocks surrounding each path
Knowing tales of days-passed and aftermath
A spindly tree feathered with its repeated bath
Moonlight washing away all that's wrath
Not trading here for a million or two gold
You could offer a mansion with no sign of sold
Each passing boat of enlivening cold
Remembers stories of today that were never told
CharlesC Jan 2012
Behind
a still awareness
which is ready
to connect our wholeness
enveloping
enlivening
sending of Scouts
birthing the players
filling our stages until
the dream finds an ending....
Mary-Eliz Apr 2017
Before I die I want to learn
to live in the moment
this very moment

I want to feel every breath

If the sun is shining I want
to let it go through me
enlivening every cell

If it rains I want to try
to count the droplets
and
sense the life in them

I want to learn to replace worry
with wonder
and
regret with wisdom

letting go of past traumas
real or imagined

I want to learn who I am
and
how to be true to that

I want to learn
my strengths
to forgive my shortcomings
to absolutely know myself

I want to learn a thousand-thousand
new words

I want to learn to fly
if only
in my dreams

before I die
I want to learn to live!
down on her knees
beseeching
pleading for it to arrive
days without
a meager amount
she was dying
as time did pass
to be endowed
in its refreshment
would be a relief
towards the heavens
her hands
were stretched
asking earnestly
for the opening of clouds
to be replenished
her core so dry
ecstasy
had abandoned
her terrain
gone twas it life giving
dampness
which would allay
all of her anguish and pain
arid she'd been
all summer long
twas to long a period
being bereft
of those quenching drops
her ground so dusty
and lifeless
she'd pined
for the sweet moistening
to fill her with enlivening streams
a band of richly laden clouds
came as she pleaded
to the sky once again
she implored
to be saturated
monster drops
of rain poured down
which so soothed
her landscape's crust
enthralled twas she
to be in receipt
of its wetting balm
long she'd made supplications
to the sky
as her soil
had been excessively dry
on her knees
and her hands stretched
to the heavens
on high
the sky bequeathed
her its deliverance
as her death
twas drawing ever nigh
Nat Lipstadt Oct 26
disclaimer:
a long poem, tumbled out complete,
feel free to *** along

<!>

a poem that does not need writing,
scripted once before(1), sung this song,
nonetheless the heart purges,
then
newly urges
for fresh eyes to revise

for each second, four new babes come
into these world, estimating that one
will be infect by poesy, and there is
and yet,
no-known/cure, there be no disturbance,
no Cain mark distinguishing,
no sign from heaven,

so this enlivening disease, sometimes takes
almost a generation to bud, blossom (4) and pollinate the world with its unique nectar, uncontained, unconditionally & uncontrollable, and naturally,
incurable

by you awoken & aware of yourself
as a carrier, the strange heart rate
display of your EKG, that the doc
cannot explain, with that extra heart
beating beat (2) revealed, tell them not
to worry
it’s ok,
it’s a genetic
that makes you
tick
that’s yours
distinct,
and

there is no cure expected, no foundation advertising for dollars to lead the fight,
maybe one that does exact opposite, but no
matter, the infection becomes a condition,
with symptoms diagnoseable by the
colored gleaming lights in your
aggregating eyes

then comes the days of
frustrated declination
when every undisciplined
***** ditty wordy rejected,
crumpled and to the round
container sailing,
that’s the pain for the gain,
though all natural talent marked
by higher standards
self~imposed,
for only you can judge
when it’s good enough to satisfy
the judges observing,

the ones astride you
on each shoulder,
censoring the trite,
******* you back into the fight,
and soliciting you to go easier
on that body
for it already contains
all the nutty nutrients
that will combust
into a poem
that will be any equivalent
to an
******  of
new life breaching the
mind’s cautious customary warnings

so much more to tell,
by way of example,
who are the
predecessors that give me instant inspiration,
in the expectation of periods of
Saharan drought, (3)
the need to jot every random thoughts,
for oft
we compose in drips and dabs,
every birth owns its own timetable,
took Cohen ten years
to make Hallelujah satisfactory,
theiving so/too much of your time,
until the best distraction arrives,
announcing the following;

“if I did not truly loved her
it would be causas belli
should I fail not to
bring her an ember of
coffee”



but writing in the moment
is a stupendous momentous
so smile sweet,
tell her where to go,

where
the mug with Hawaiian scents
awaits, and let her lover
decompose what needs saying

immédiate
right now!

so by way of closure
I ask you
why
are you still reading this too **** long
soliloquy
and not
stariing into a world
of words
all your own?
<>
for
inscribed upon your every breath,
are
your words,
a trickery uniquery
to which

nothing will ever compare
<>
this one, came atumbling, stumbling
in one fall fell swooping on a Sabbath morning,
10/26/24, between
6:00am and 9:00am
>>
(1) https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2433933/0-followers/

(2) https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4767467/intrinsically-intrigued-by-my-irregular-irreverent-extra-heartbeat/

(3) Hafiz, Whitman
(4) started writing late, in my sixth decade
Travis Green Oct 2021
You were aesthetically enlivening
A matchless, incandescent stud
An awesomely melodic mulatto
Filling my heart with steadfast love

And when I thought our lips spooning
My fingers on your fine, fashionable goatee
The flame of love all around us
There were exquisite sensations escalating
As I longed to feel your hot inner warmth

And as I stood still in my bedroom
I was streaming in luminous passion
Thinking about your divine existence
Longing to be consumed by your radiant fire
Feel your magic undulating around my tower

I was in a frenzy of delight throughout the night
So ripe for you, yearning to explore
The pleasures of touching your adoring face
Your elegant, expressive eyebrows
Your gently sloped and sensual nose
Your superior pierced ears
Your majestically masculine forehead
Your smooth and highly electric black hair
How I could excitingly evaporate into all of you
And fulfill my desire of having you
Jessica Golich Oct 2014
Shaping molecular composition through a spectrum of nutrients; an enlivening desideratum toward the absorption of essential elements creating *magnetic resonance
james nordlund Mar 2018
It's not my breath
That enlightens mind.
Not my agua uplifting
These outstretched limbs,
Forever reaching, nor the hand
Always bringing another with.

Not my thousands of rivers
Of blood forever flowing,
Enlivening life eternal.
Nor, my right heart's unbeat,
Spiritually evolving somatic
Revolution with all, the Earth.

Not my striving to thrive,
Leaving no footprints
That followed none,
Echoing in all ways, always.
Life isn't mine, being is
Relation, I cannot "give it up".
latest twig of poetree   :)

reality
Sunanda Pati Jul 2014
you talk
like lions roar
and shrug
like there's nothing
in the earth below
your heavy lisp
rings through the room
even as aproned women
scrape their brooms
you talk of recovery
you talk of gain
you talk like
you have never been pained
you talk of casinos
the tring of money
you talk of wealth
like it were milk and honey
you talk the talk
and then talk the walk
we make through the woods
you talk again
this time of stolen goods
we cross the river
you talk
we feel the night shiver
you talk
we dream of sleep
you talk
we avoid counting sheep
you talk

you talk
until we see
the sun come up
it is a crisp morning
ready to fill the cup
i wait to hear
from a world
i don't live in
but i am met
with a silence
that is
most enlivening
and that is
when i see you
for the first time
for what you are
your eyes
grey much dull
hiding the
ancient sadness
of giving up
Hex Oct 2020
It's gnawing at his bones,
and clawing at his spine,
he knows he's not alone,
but now is not the time.

The woman behind sings,
broken voice brings life like spring,
enlivening his actions,
but stressing her malefaction.

He'd been running for years,
or at least, that's how it felt.
Despite his eyes' red tears,
and skin starting to welt,
his drive had never reared,
but soon, to enervation, he knelt.

He fell into the leaves,
pain stung like blades unsheathed,
now too faint to run,
he peered up to the sun.

Then, the blue turned black,
he heard a familiar chime,
he knew, his lover was back.
She heaved her axe one time...

He still lies in the leaves,
no more cries or screams,
he speaks only silence now,
in a place that won't be found.
For an October project to write one project every day.
10/3 Theme: Fatigue
Anderson Ritchie Dec 2012
See the evening colour palette?
Of fading blues and enchanting reds,
yellows, and ambers, they fall upon
the eyes. Golden in combination,
warming and enlivening to the soul.

Reminding you of some fantasy world,
where endless plains of amber grasses dance.
Where you wish your lifes short moments
could be spent for eternity with her.

T'would make the world seem inadequate,
but still, a dream doesn't die,
it ignites the flame of the soul within,
the passionate will and desire.

So gaze out! Look at the world,
immersed in the amber light
of days last light, and beauteous sunset,
that its beauty is enhanced ten-fold.
Travis Green Nov 2021
Our worlds may never
Cross the line into sublime
Romance and extravagant dates
But I will picture your picturesqueness near me
Steering me into a luscious invitation
Of unadulterated satisfaction

We can embrace each other’s nation
Escape into a wave of emanating possibilities
Kiss your posh, rosy lips, your notable goatee
Feel all around your lurid light-skinned face
The lines and ardent angles, the astonishing
Vivid colors that enrapture my mind

Your bare blossomy skin appeals to my senses
I drown into a thousand truths that aligns
With your fineness, appetizing and excitable muscles
Fresh feelable forehead, beaming black eyes
That take me into the night of wild enlivening adventures
Traversing on the highways of magicalness
Feeling your body entwined with mine
Cee Valenso Mar 2018
A wild forest is she, a covert forest is she
Donned in a sable jacket and thin-rimmed lenses
In this city jungle, to suffocate is the norm
But her presence is a breath of the freshest air
Air that stirs life in the corners of my lungs
In the hollows at the pit of my stomach
In my arteries, in all places until my puny fingertips
A wild forest, her sockets as designated firmaments
The palace of browns that blinded me, ensnared me
And when they curved into midnight crescents
I lost my breath, I missed a life beat
Her visage, a stunning union of night and day
A sight that douses a pleasing warmth on my frigid soul
And enlivening chills on my every bone
Honey-glossed dusty rose petals are her mouth
Their softness still yet to be known
With a smile so enthralling, laugh so riveting
Hers is the symphony that renders birds listening
Words that emulate soft rustles of juvenile leaves
Ironic how they placate and intensify quakes in my ribs
She is a sturdy tree, lacking beside crystalline skyscrapers
But her branches promise sojourn for my fatigued frame
A bed of grass drizzled with morning dew, her palms
Vines that I wish to braid my bi-colored locks, her fingers
And her skin, the bark my curious fingers want to trace
The surface where my nails desire to carve my name
And she, in her glorious entirety
Is a signal for the beginning of the stampede
Sending my gait unsteady
Cajoling my stone bricks to remodel its tracks
She is a wild forest amidst the bustling cities
A land of fertile soil with wild plants and flowers springing
From her chest, her wonderful mind
And I, once an eon of drought
Now an eager seed wishing to grow
With her healthy yellows and greens, I yearn to grow

— The End —