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―Go Forth
Flourish in The Light
Of The
Estival Sol,
Elysium of the Soul,
Once you have vanquished
The Stygian,
Your Soul
Awaits You―


~I bid you
Immortal Heartsease
And
Armistice of Ataraxia:
The Reverberation of our Souls
In the Key of Elysium~.





I. Archean Prelude

The echoes
of your
Memories of
The Light & Airwaves
Pine to
Bloom in Reminiscence
Over the
Days of Yore.


II. The Echoes of Existentiality

We are all atomic particles;
Molecular Particles,
Of an aromatic
Omniscient,
Omnipotent,
Omnipresent Mist:
The Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love

―Echo forth comrades―

~Evanesce,
Into the Empyrean,
Etherealized Lightscape
Until the
Visage of Creation
Enskies us
To the exalted
El Dorado~



II. Tempus Fugit

The Promise
Of the
Morrow
Is nigh:

The Yesteryears
Wax
Distant Ages,
Wax
Archean Aeons;

(Eventuality of Existence)

Our Bygone Days
Of Lovelit, Loveless Life,
Antiquate and
Our Soulwaves
Wax
The Spirit of
The Ancient of Days.


III. Nova Cosmogony

Betwixt the Realms
Of the
Beneficent Matriarch Mirror,
Beyond
Terraqueous Gaia
Unfurls the Vista,
Your Fulgurant Dreamscape:

Only the Sapient of Sages
Doth denude:

The Incorporeal Incarnation
Of
Virtue, it’s vesture,
Na’phesh

The Decrepitude of Withering
Dovens the Divine
In the
Vestibule of Vanity,
Sanctimony & Superciliousness
Thence deliquesce;
Bearing womb of Light.

IV. Celestial Morphology

Unveiling the Substance
Of Space and Time;
Spirit and Soul;
Euphony, Harmony;
Atrophy, Intrepidity
All are Entity

Once
Pristine yet vacuous,
Flourishing into
Mystical and shimmering
Nothingness, gropes
For Meta-Astral ―form;

Ventus Divinitas,
The Cosmogonist’s Agenda
Resonates
Through the
Inchoative Universe.

V. The Temporal Hither:

Her Genesis
Waxeth
Vestal Vicissitudes:

She is
The Twilit Quiver
Uprising in
Darts of the Dawn,

Until
Arrows of Antemeridian
Light Cascade
Our epidermis
With the incendiary
Sovereignty of Sol.

Dusk:
Chars the Canvas
Of Ethereal Skies,
Garnetiferous,
Moonlit, Martyred Mind’s Sky;
The Eve’s Imperator
And
Inquisitive Spirit Eyes.

By Luminaries
We’re ensorcelled
Corpulent with thought.

~Wondering upon,
Vacuous a fathomed
Cosmogenesis. ~



VI. Tempus et Spatium:


~There are
Edicts unseen
The Esoteric of the Macrocosm

Only the
Transcendent of Tellurians
May tell of
The Life-Rending,
Sunder forth:

Semantics in Constellations;
Gaian Whispers of Sylvan Tale
The Arboreal Wisdom,
Musicality in Zephyrs ruffling Trees of Vale
Hearken unto further
The Winged-Symphonic Bees
(The Bombinating Orchestra)
Soul Untethered = [ Meta-Consciousness ^ Spiritus de Liberty]

Einstein’s General Relativity= [Spatium ^ Matter ↔ Energy ^ Motion]

~

(Time & Space
The height,
The width,
The depth,
And
The breadth)
The Empyrean One
Enshrined in Pantheon
Our Virginal, Vestal Souls
Efflorescent Eternity
In our hearts?
(Ecclesiastes 3:11)

Time is fickle
A
Hydrean Leviathan:

Whilst ye
Voyage her
Seven Seas,
Moor naught
In her
Elapsed chronology;
Her caprice
And ire
Shalt not
Be quelled.

Be roused
From
Somnus,
Unto her
Perpetuity of
Aqueous Abyssal, Dream Deep Sea;
Tenuous,
Diaphanous,
Rare,
Tender,
Instinctive,

∞ Her Moments ∞
∞ Extinguished ∞
∞ At Birth. ∞

∞ Eternally, ∞
∞ Reincarnated; ∞
∞Anew.∞

∞The Cosmic Spectrum∞
∞Is Infinite∞

∞Excelsior, Godspeed∞

∞ Elo’him ∞





VII. Ultima Thule:

We
Empyrean souls,
Doth abide
In
Pearlescent raiment.

The Cosmogenesis is our Dreamscape:
.
We are all a cosmos,
Expanding, contracting;
Ebbing, flowing;
Hitherto and thitherto;
Red-Shift and Blue-Shift.

Until the Mellifluous Morn,
Whence the
Zephyr of Life
Reverberates the Musicality
Of The
Arboreal Sages.

Terraqueous Gaia
Whispers
The Hope of the Ages.
Spirits betwixt
Greater Eden and She’ol.

Count the stars,
Enumerate every
Constellation in The Cosmos
Of your Soulscape scintillating
Upon thine Mind’s Sky.

Whence Luna and Sol
By the Wisdom
Of your starlight.
Are benighted, beseech
The Ancient of Days

For within The Supernal Wavelength
Of the Hallowed Dove.
We glean refuge
Our Aegis,
Providence.

Awaiting the
Golden, incendiary pinions
Of the
Revenant Phoenix to resurrect us.
Allow the Holy Spirit
to be your Polaris,
― to Elysium.

~By Agape’s Armistice:
Ascend,
The Peaks of Heartsease.
Commune with the Cosmos,
Wax
Salvera y Jiustizia
Brethren,
I plead.~”


~This Sacred Lotus seed
Was sown
Into the
Into the Soil of your Souls
, ―By the Astral.

You are a melody,
Sung by
A coloratura,
Burst into a
Tapestry of Fioritura:

Of Hope,
Faith,
And
Love



(May you
Reap
The Virtues of the Lord)

Betwixt

Na’phesh,
(The [Your] Living Soul)

&

Kos’Mos’
(The World)

The Apotheosis of the Astral Flame
Awaits
You
Starry-Eyed
Phantasmagoreans~
Celestial Morphology © is the multi-epistled poem which I sired during the Estival vicissitude. Twas an ineffable cadenza that exhales of the incorporeal essence of mine entity. I had been toiling in sweat, blood, and tears over a written project at the time; consequently, this is the thematic poem begotten.
     It transmutes the zeitgeist of my summer into the Golden Raiment of Polymathy. The oppressed coals of my woe erupted from the igneous core of my heart as these adamantine words. This starry soundscape is the astral crux of my work during 2018.
      I think that there was a vast expanse of my understanding of the world that had been repressed. It had almost been veiled from the heightened sight of my Over-Soul. This was in my sheltered, infantile longing to elude heartache. To keep the flesh- sundering maladies of the world outside my apartment walls: love, passion, iniquity, penitence, forgiveness, piety, cultural fission, intolerance, injustice, indignation, divinity, melody, mysticism, schism, mania, trepidation, faith, wisdom, darkness, and temporally transcendent pain.
          This was my transcribed anarchy against a Fascist Regime. A country exalting body that calls its denizens creationists whilst they slaughter every creation under the sun. The sociological edicts that dictate how art should be produced, the pace, that tell us not to speak of discrimination and mold us to turn a blind eye to the harsh realities of 21st-century postmodern society heavied the air. I just needed to vent and let every bit of internalized asperity or self-directed hatred out in a beautifying paradigm.
      I'm realizing more and more that life is tough and quite frankly, short. I'd rather write for an infinitude on one poem, for the sake of saving myself, rather than compromising my own integrity (and creative latitude). The writing was becoming a drag: less about quality, and more about quantity. Thus, after months of phantasmagorical drought, I bestow a glistening glade of sterling words.
I hope this poem reverberates upon thine soul waves. Please comment as I am open to any feedback; moreover, I beseech it of thee. My deepest gratitude comrades.

Excelsior Forevermore,

Sanders Maurice Foulke III
ryn Sep 2014
Mythical Bird, show me your secret
Hatch forth from your shell
Plumage of orange and scarlet
Emerge glorious from whence you dwell

Fiery Bird, you must reveal
Your astounding, magical ways
Where from these lives you steal
Forever reincarnating well into your days

Aflamed Bird, you must teach
How you reinvent yourself anew
With no help within reach
Without aid, effortlessly you flew

Majestic Bird, take me in
Blanket me with your wing
Listen and acknowledge my sins
With all your wisdom and heart could bring

Magical Bird, will you impart?
What knowledge you keep
Only then, I may start
To make my way out from the deep

Enchanted Bird, you have to help
I'm desperate to rise like you
**** your head and hear my yelps
Of all the things I'm trying to undo

Celestial Bird, if only you could know
Intricate workings of this unfounded fixation
Why I seem to always wallow
An eternal target of sorrow's attention

Imaginary Bird, will you demonstrate
Your amazing fantastical flight
Dipping, gliding, in the air you gyrate
Aggressive dance with gravity you fight

Mystical Bird, won't you display
For unworthy eyes, would you give?
Seemingly easy, aloft you stay
Even when you know you'd die before you'd live

Wondrous Bird, oh how perfect you are
I am in awe, I am swooning
How you become one with the stars
Making the best of the short time you're living

Secretive Bird, is it time?
Reducing yourself down to ashes
Ready to absolve your stint of crimes
Reborn perfect, free from previous gashes

Ensorcelled Bird, please don't retreat
Back into your familiar cocoon
I'm uncertain if again we'd meet
Just afraid I might be gone too soon
K Dec 2015
Sopor fuels the pen
Darkness devours the sun
As she carves the page

With beautiful words
Ethereal, Opulent
Sonder, syzygy


Vellichor, Gambol
Efflorescence, Effluence

Words without meaning

Lurk in the shadows
And hovels of ambition
Creep onto the page

But the mind embraced
In a blanket of obscurity
Cannot find their worth

Her Mellifluous song
Ensorcelled her lover
Bliss in limerence


How can the stagnant
Heart waltz with stars, write of love,
Beat in unison?

How can the lifeless
Soul connect with humanity?

*My words are worthless
Reworking this piece.
You are my
Ensorcelled Elysium,
You are my
Eden Dream.

You cascade
Upon my Dreamscape,
Enshrine my slumber in
A flowered gale of aromatic petals
That envelop me, beckon me
To herald the rebirth
Of Days of Yore.

You vein
The Glistening Glade of Memories
With your
Brooks of Aqueous Emerald.

Tis' the
Phantasmagoric Plane
Where still
My wayworn spirit wanders, wearily
In search of the magic
To enfetter
The Hands of Fate
(For they conspire against us).

Swifter than your descent
Into my soul
(Five seconds still and flat)
By
The nexus of your affections,
You evanesced
Like vapor,
Yet
I shall not concede to
The Malevolent Matriarch of Destiny.

For you
O, Breath of Life,
Forsook me not
So I sublime all stains
Tarnishing my flesh
By cries to The Ethereal.

At midday
Awaiting the Twilight
I long for
The birth of The Womb of Aether’s
Progeny,
Starlit winds.

I muse
Swimmingly in Seas of Reminiscence,
Banished from that Blackened Bastion
Of Shadowed Heavens,
For when darkness shrouds
My dreams can be seen
Draping the skies.

I then fathom,
You must not be far off,
Wishing,
Hoping,
Believing
That perhaps
You too
Wonder upon stars
Longing to find that one
That entwines us anew.

You shall alight,
Upon me once more
As
August Sun’s Nimbus
(If only for a moment)
Is thwarted
By
Ebony Miasma
That drenches Cimmerian skies.

In search
Of Ardor’s Light abiding in
The Sylvan Shrine of Your Numinous Eyes
I plead that
The Crag oppress
The Coals of Tribulation,
Until my anguish is
A Diamond Heart.

The pilgrimage
I must bear,
Must be traveled by
The Adamantine alone.

Where have you gone,
Tree of Life?
Why have you withered,
Yggdrasil?

Do I possess
The Eradia of Souls,
By which you shall
Effloresce?

I would halt the cogs of time,
Relinquish my liberty,
To slumber for eternity
In crystal stasis
By your side.

Even in that crystalline quietude,
I would be eminent,
I would be exalted,
I would be ennobled,
In the knowingness that
Your
Stalwart Heart
Radiates
Just beside me.

I exhale Empyrean Winds
When rapt in reverie,
Yearning to be
Captive to your devotion,
Yours alone.

The Bliss of Your Most Holy Kiss
Would signet me
With the
Bounty of Your Name
Burnishing the skin
On my lips.

Though ephemeral,
Your presence divined,
Your presence
Was my anointing.

To be solaced
By the astral resonance emitted
By your touch
Sent the
Pulse of Nirvana
Surging, rippling,
Like a kaleidoscope tide,
Down my spine

You are
The Waters of Vitality
That floweth from
The Creeks of Eden,

You have been
Poured upon my palate
From the
Goblet of Redemption
That I may drinketh
Of
Supernal immortality.

When once again we meet,
Perhaps the tears you summoned
From my spirit
By your
Stirring caress
Shall have absolved me
Of the pangs
In loving a man
(And man alone).

Perhaps then,
The sentiments
I pine to profess,
Will resound.

A melody
Sung in legato,
A  mellifluous melisma,
Flawlessly delineated
And
Intonation in deiform
Or perhaps,
Flowering fioritura
Lacing airwaves,
By the Empress Coloratura.

Perhaps then, piety
Betwixt you and I,
Will waft the air
And I might then,
Permit my quaking body
To succumb to
You alone.

Until that morn,
I shall be vigilant,
Counting the Dawns,
Counting the Twilights,
Until
I can gaze
Into your forested eyes
If even for but a moment.

For even but a moment
Spent with you,
Will bleed a nostalgia
Across my mind's sky,
Painting clouds crimson with passion,
And
That I shall revere,
And
That shall last
And last
And,
Last… And
Last.

O, it will last,
To Elysian Infinity.


            I am a vestige,
               But I shall live once more,
                  In the light of memories
                       That blossom, are perennial,
                           And imbibe the dazed glory of the past
                       Until the past is vanquished
                 By a future that is fragrant
             With the mist of romance
          And eclipses the simulacrum,
       A fictitious sun of the infernal masquerade,
    The antithesis of the truest holy,
Then, rapture of life shall mystify no longer,
For the Numen of Truth,
  Shall cleanse creation without a drop of façade,
      His Providence shall emancipate the hollow,
             The Death of Dreams shall writhe
               In everlasting abeyance,
                 Absolving our wayward spirits,
                  The Winds of Change,
                  The Scourge of Pain,
               And
          The Loveless Wraiths
        That haunted our husks
      Shall be transcended for aeons,
  And tribulation made distant, made nebulous
As the Genesis of Time and Space itself
  For we embark on an exodus,
     Beseeching salvation to redeem us
        When the Requiem of Iniquity
           Is triumphed by everlasting cadence.

Be Valiant,
                 Be Sapient,
                             Be Love
                                       And
                                          By this
                                                You shall conquer the world
                                                           ∞
Hello my fellow comrades! This piece was originally written as a means of catharsis. I wanted to express the romantic sentiments begotten by an individual who deliquesced from my world as swiftly as they arrived. I hope you guys can glean virtues of humanity, poignancy, candor, and (an organic) transparency in this piece. I want to impress the density of reverence pulsing in my heart for the person who enraptured me by the thew of their tenderness and kindred spirit.

Hopefully the massive length of this piece does not deter from reading its contents. Holistically speaking, the volume of content in this piece is the metaphorical incarnation of the Ocean of Affection that ebbs and flows within my soul (for this individual). I would love to improve, so if you have any constructive feedback you'd like to convey I would be most grateful. Anyhow, I hope that on some level you can connect with the overtones of undying piety in love that deluge this piece. Thank you all for reading and God bless!
Jenn Nix Nov 2014
They set off from white rocks,
red geraniums, blue tile,
and let the green sea
lift and drop their ships far above the white foam waves.

The stony islands that were home
were swallowed in minutes by the hungry Atlantic
but they hunted the big fish,
the giant whales  with human eyes
who rolled and sang and swam
in oceans a continent away.

They came from Sao Jorge, Sao Miguel
Faial, Pico, Terceira, Horta -
Nine island emeralds set in a black volcanic chain,
neither of the old country nor the new:
Halfway there and halfway gone -
secret jewels of the Portuguese sailors.

They sailed into unknown waters,
south around tropical shores
where dragons smoked and writhed on the rocks
and birds with brilliant red and yellow plumage
rose in clouds around their heads.

Then north, and north, north again
to colder waters
where sea lions barked and lunged
at the strange massive wooden beast
that coursed the waters,
strung with brown bodies swaying
on the lines and cursing the sails.

North still they swept
casting contemptuous eyes on
the cheap turquoise waters and monstrous slow turtles
of the Sea of Cortez.
Coming up from the desert, past the palms and the yucca,
the Joshua tree and Spanish daggers,
they chased their smooth grey prey,
riding the vast Pacific on their wooden island,
herding the leviathans onto their spears,
adventurers with an audience of only
gulls and sky and seal.

Until they sailed too close one day
to a rock-strewn shoreline
and saw the golden hills.
Gnarled oaks like grandmothers from home
with orange poppy jewels at their feet,
missions strung like beads in a ruby marked rosary.

The boats slowed, ****** in by a Scylla of soil
rich and brown and loamy
waiting to be seeded with grapes and apricots
peaches, avocados, lettuce, alfalfa,
fertile and heavy with sweet promise.
And the whales sang and the lions barked and the gulls cried
but the sailors were entranced, encharmed, ensorcelled.
The treacherous sea, the mysterious deep, the stony jewels of home,
called and wept
and waited in vain for the sailors 
 - beached and grounded -
cutting not waves but earth,
tracking seasons not whales,

seduced by dirt.
Dreams
Are euphony
Of thought,
Of heart,
Of body,
Of the splendid,
Of the soul,

(Unbinding our once
Spectral Fates
          That spiraled down
The Keys of Life
Tainted by
The Greatest of Dissonance)

My Redolent Reverie,
Sweetened by
Mellifluous Nectar Tides
Of cherished moments
Steeped for eons
In our
Carnal yearnings
Are made anew
By the Cosmogonist’s Hands
Of Eternity

(O, for I
Doth doven the skies,
That the Incendiary Wings
Of the Auburn Pheonix
Imbue me
With the Souls Acquisition
Of Golden Pinions
                      Of the Thew of Vitality).

Captive visions,
Slumber in
My Azure Dreamer’s Chest
Engraved with
The Insignia of Archaic Fates
Upon it’s
Starry Epidermis
Till skies fall
To the Terrene
And
The Luminaries
Shall rest
Betwixt
The palms of my hands

(O, for then
This Juggernaut of a Man
That I am
Shall Effloresce
Ceasing to be
     That Loveless Sentinel,
The Guardian over
The Bastion Heart
He fathoms
Impregnable)

.Ensorcelled Butterflies
Radiate
Lovelit Lavender Light
Upon that
Astral Parcel,
Lulling my weary eyes
By the
Sovereignty of Monarchial Wings
Vanquishing the doubts
Once blurring
My Kaleidoscopic Dreams
(Life’s Iridescent Seal
Branded upon
My forehead
And etherealizing
My exhalations
                    Till crystalline)

My sullied heart
Pulses shadowed winds
(The Sweeping Gales of Solemnity)
Without the
Blissful Kiss of Cadence
Resonating an
Ebony surge
Deeper,
Than first octave tonality
Of abyssal timbre.

I beseech you,
Unfurl those forested eyes
My Desiderata Materialista,
That I may
Drinketh of your
Emerald Streams,
Ineffably Pristine.

(For then
I shall be
Spirited away
      To Eden,
My existence
     Shall become
Nirvanic Transcendence)

To pine is a pang,
To envisage
Is to breath.

Perhaps that
Is the only solace
My feeble soul
Can bear,
Without you.

By your alabaster skin
Vein my eyes
With luminescence.

With your tender caress
Saunter my
Voracious skin.

Weave my Chrysalis,
By your
Susurrant voice.

Cocoon me
In your
Flawless serenade,
That I metamorphose
Bearing the
Sacrosanct Wings of Phantasmagoria
And
The Melisma of Your Piety.

Pearlescent blood
Floweth within me,
Like baptismal rain,
As I muse
When you alight
Once more
In my Cosmos.

I am yours,
Floral Fallal.

~Our fears are the burdens
    Of the Vestige of the Past,
      A hollow cry
       That fights to exist
         In a zeitgeist
           That flowers
              Quicker than
                Our hearts know how to beat.
                          
                     Unfurl your Gates
                           To the Arbiter of Fates,
                              Unearth the Hallowed Crystals
                                 Of your Garnetiferous Passion
                                    That takes shape
                                        Because you…

                               O, Stalwart Knight,
                                    You were cosmic
                                         Like myriad raindrops,
                                           Mystic echoes
                                              Emancipating­ your spirit
                                                 From the trepidation
                                                     ­    Of the mortal kind.

                                                   Evolve,                                            
                                Evanesce,                       ­   
                                                  For to be Ephemeral                      
                                 ­                Means to conquer                                  
That Magisterial Oblivion.
                                                       ­     Se’lah.~
Hey guys! I've been doing a great deal of experimenting with my writing as of late. This piece is an embodiment of all the introspection, musings, tribulations, and heartbreaks I have experienced as of late. I hope you all can appreciate this piece despite the quasi-obscurant references that I present bereft of explicit detail.

The core of this piece lies in the fundamental nature of our dreams, yearnings, and aspirations (as well as the shadows born of the loveless blight). It effloresced it something much greater as I continued to refine it. Hope you guys like! God bless!
laura Aug 2018
ensorcelled - the day burns and burns
the dusk is filled with ashen husks
and white flies swirling in the wind
different kind of bittersweet day

like a girl who ditched you at a good movie
a sunset lighting the boughs up at 2PM
like a good day despite the world on fire
pretty and futile; like throwing selfies on an insta
vircapio gale Mar 2014
the Nephelaen mediatrix sings
fating an ambrosia synchrony of tones

she volves her telic tepals ripe:
areoles ensorcelled under alate nomes

she heralds petrichoric quench
with nova womb
to subtend violet ray

in stellar bloom, noema web:
sensate fontanels
in spite of dessication's wrench
are concresced atmospheric balms
of evanescent nervure, calyces
displayed to sky-crossed home,
unpillared and ovoid







.
'the nephelai (or Nephelae)
were the Okeanid nymphs of clouds and rain who rose up from the earth-encircling river Okeanos bearing water to the heavens' ( theoi.com ).
"The Nephelean Period"
is a perhaps outdated term used in solar or geologic timescales, to mark when solar nebulae emerge distinct from Giant Molecular Clouds. it ends when a proto-sun is formed.
mediatrix : a female mediator

volve : "consider" "roll about the mind"
telic: having an end or goal
tepal: contains both sepals and petals of a flower
areoles: (on cacti) are clearly visible bumps out of which grow clusters of spines, buds and branches
ensorcell: to bring under a spell
alate: winged
nome (nomos), in Greek music, originally ‘tune’, ‘melody’; the word was applied especially to a type of melody invented, it was said, by Terpander as a setting for texts taken from epic poetry, which could be played on the flute or on the lyre.

petrichor: the scent after long awaited rain, or the oil released after a drought's end
noema: an object of consciousness
concresce: to grow together
calyx: bot. the outermost group of floral parts, the sepals; anat. zool., a cuplike part.
ovoid: egg-shaped

my apologies for the obscure words. it's a vice and a penchant i'm learning to come to terms with. any thoughts are appreciated
Cimmerian Chaos, incediary
The Requiem of the Revenant:

Tis I,
The Breathing Song
Conjuring a vestige,
Ensorcelled by what I'd been envisaging.

Maimed by Tempus, The Temporal Arbiter
Words reverberating on the wavelength of my soul
Left me vibrating desolate and wayworn.
Utterances deluging me in the Dominion of Doubt
Until I reached a crossroads
For perilous was the pilgrimage I peregrinated.

The Penultimate Tribulation has begun
And though angst is festering in my flesh,
The Sacred Lotus of Dreams has not wilted,
Shalt it ever upon the Lake of the Holy Oracle;
Elysium of the Soul is awaiting those who are stalwart
In the Visage of the Shadows.*

∞Hallelujah∞

By Sanders M. Foulke III
Two month old free verse poem regarding my own martyrdom and tribulations in the flesh. My iniquities can bring about lightness and sanctity if I so speak it into my life. Surrendering over all suffering, woe, and lamentation over to the Ethereal leads to transcendence of blight and ascendence to Elysium of the Soul. Be encouraged when you suffer, for peril means not ending but genesis. Genesis of wisdom, love, power, justice, endurance, meekness, humility, loyalty, faith, hope, joy, and every other virtue that is His. Any feedback is most appreciated. Enjoy! God bless!
When the magistry has ended, /
The echoes of repose begin to resound; /
Although there is, there has been a great wanderer in me, /
The beckoning has not ceased, /
Nor has my heart been claimed in abeyance. /

A story, one with risings & fallings, /
One with an unfalteringly great divide, /
Has bestowed a parcel from on high; /
The Winds, The Earth, The Ocean, The Sun, The Moon, /
They are the pulse of this Grand Tapestry. /

When we are enraptured, /
By ensorcelled irides /
We become; /
Sometimes being enamored /
Means our journey is re-willed; /
Moreover, we see the world with Brand New Eyes. /

Allowing every experience, to re-modulate my thoughts & feelings /
I realized uncertainty was not a barrier, /
Rather, it was my nexus to transcendence. /
Having a time & space in which to reflect, retrospect, & introspect was an aegis, /
Now real & authentic happiness is no longer distant /
And faith is near. /
-------------------------------------

Written

by,

Sanders Maurice Foulke III, AAS

----------------------------------------

#BeLove
#BeFaith
#BeDream
#ExcelsiorForevermore
Adele Mar 2017
It all started in the town Warwickshire,
within Stratford-upon-Avon
a magician invented a spell
a thaumaturgy from Ovid's
magnum opus and Holinshed Chronicles
that whispered an image
of kings and battles
which turned into a game of bewitchment!

Hail the Globe Theatre
where the throng gathered
and witness the sorcery
ensorcelled by the conjurer
though spell cast into ashes
and turn dreams
into a nightmare

Yet, 'Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.'
The summary of master Shakespeare's life. The last quoted line is from 'The Tempest', his last solo masterpiece.
alexa Aug 2018
i’m convinced that
i have met an angel in real life,
wings spread and
halo glowing,
lips soft like
the sheets we’re tangled in
sweet like honey, showered
with stars from above
i am
entrapped, ensorcelled
by all that you are.
-a.c.b
Wade Redfearn Feb 2010
Underwhelmed with modern magic, I let myself be taken
to a party on a strange night.
Like you, I let my lips whisper abracadabra and
kept my fears in one subtle hand.
Like you, I wanted to vanish the crowd
under a napkin -
to palm everyone into a cup under the table,
leaving a beaming new face - radiant eyes and unfamiliar tricks -
to abandon all the showmanship
exactly where it belongs.

And when all the faces peeled away to
a lively midnight wilderness
you were there, a magician
and prestidigitated into smoke and mirrors
every artifact of doubt.

There is nothing I would like more than
to have a drink with you
to have a cigarette with you
to have anything at all with you
and learn your secrets:
A longing for names unmentioned and eyes still incredulous,
and a reverence for fairy dust.

Watching the room empty,
hearing the soft chatter of their private marvels
we are alone, as we ached to be,
here, to tell our secrets, and they are these:
we are in discord with love
skeptics, so unfit for
the careless faith and
grasping vigilance of hearts our age.

Now, in this cabaret,
"goodnight" is ensorcelled into a curse, and
"come with me," a necromancy uttered
to give to dead hopes new dimensions.

Here, I would read every book under the sun,
work my fingers into knotted idleness,
believe in every fantasy
to learn your secrets.

Under the snowfall, we kiss like Chinese rings
but you know as well as I do
that quick enchantments are a thin fable,
and instant magic does not exist.
Just ask me
He hated his life incredibly deeply
So he resigned from it incredibly meekly
He wrote poetry with passion so seething
That late evening paramours would recite it so deeply
Suicidal sons would read on and keep breathing
Loathsome lovers would repent for their cheating
His words float without effort, masterfully  perceiving
Of the harsh and real yet ensorcelled and believing
The lost and the ****** with one glance would find meaning
In a world so berift of love
Who knew when his bullet, right temple and pulled it, from the left side would fly a dove
Jack Aug 2014
~

Ensorcelled in effervescent lingerings
sifting through moonlit seams
Soft flavored drippings of ecstasy
melting slowly within the fever
dancing across my skin
as your fingers trace
the outline of my deepest secrets,
mysteries lodged in seductive breaths

Your love my ******, addictive enchantment
Stimulated senses heightened
Sundrenched moans, silver lined
adrift on satin sighs
Floating delirious within
hallucinogenic eyes,
seducing my mind in eternal desires

Trance infused emotions
cling to each nuance of mesmeric longings
Swirling smoke ringlets
penetrate whispering decolletage,
culminating in lustful motives
atop gilded sheets
drenched of our rapture,
etched in euphoria
Two silhouettes saturated
*in this dream called passion
meqan Jan 2019
the moon once ensorcelled me,
it left me quite confused.
for i could never understand,
how it quickly moved.

sitting in the backseat
of a moving car.
i would watch with curious eyes,
waiting for it to stay back far.

but that never happened,
and it always kept close.
the moon was my friend,
it was what i needed most.
don't know how i feel about this one, but it's okay.
this is probably just free verse,
but it might fit the criteria for a different style
of poetry.
tc May 2018
I speak in the heat of the moment; I forgot to tie my mind’s shoelaces and now I’m spluttering in ways I recognise from falling over as a kid. My words fumble over themselves the same way my hands did the first time they tried to find yours. Reaching for something familiar should have come so natural and maybe that’s why I was so shaky, because I had surrounded myself with unfamiliarity and it became all I knew, but then you.

          But then I had seen the walls of your bedroom before.

I had felt your palm.

                                         I had tasted your skin.

I knew your scent, or maybe it just smelt so much like an unspoken promise we made a lifetime ago that it lingered in my mind. I do not know if I was real before I met you. Directionless has never been pretty but I am a wanderer and I have opened fields within myself to plant daffodils in your honour.

I forgot to tie my mind’s shoelaces and now here I am, staggering upon syllables hoping it bows together to form something less loose; something for you to chew on, something to fill you up. I have tasted dirt plenty of times. I sank my teeth into it those times I used to fall over as a kid but I fell for you and all I can taste is honey. I have been pollenated with seeds and I cannot stop blossoming visions of you and our future and they pour out of me on to blank pages and create something worth reading.

I am still directionless, but it can only ever be beautiful with you by my side.

I speak in the heat of the moment and I am ensorcelled by your mind and I try to speak less to listen but you create floods within my throat and it cascades out of me in spoken promises and too many “I love you”’s for someone who agreed to only tell you twice a day – I cannot. I love you, and my heart resides within you.
The Moonlit Aethers bleed Titanium Rays
As mine Forlorn Eyes
Saunter thine Porcelain Skin:

Platinum Matriarch upon Swarthy Expanse reigns
Azure Luminaries cascade
Upon The Forested Glades of my Airy Soulwaves.
Ensorcelled is that Sylvan Shrine,
The Reliquary of the Starry Wish.

(O, that
           Loveless Blight
                                  might cease)

I Besought the Firmaments
From Dusk to Dawn
Lamenting in Dirge
Of the
Revenant Skies;
Eons transcended yet no hand to hold
The Benediction of Romance
An Ephemeral Throne.

The Pandemonium corporealizes
Wraiths in my mind;
(Perdition is Thew
      The
         Poltergeist's Might)
Ivory Visage of the Impearled
Hallows my Spirit
Quells the Abyss.

The Thew of Deities
Purged from my veins
Quaking my quintessence,
I fathomed
I was naught.
A mere figment,
An existential vagary:

~BUT NOW I SEE
We are
All
But a
Dream
Clinging yearningly
to the
Promise of Hope
(The Covenant of Ensouled Dust)
Groping for Eternity, Memory, and the Lightwaves
To be
Vested in our pulse;

For Corporeality;
Ascendency
To the Chrysalis of The Astral,
The Cradle of Cosmogenesis:
Our Cosmos,
Our  Zephyr,
Our Magma,
Our Torrent,
Our Tremor,
Our Thunderclap,
Our Time,
Our Space,
Our Nexus to Efflorescence,
Our Incorporeal Sublimity~

I shall surrender to
Providence of the Supernal
His Empyrean Wings
(An Impregnable Aegis)
A Strewn Vestige once was I
But the Somnolent Beloved was roused
Whence I glimpsed into thine eyes.

The Vagrant Loveless is resurrected
Reawakened as a Doughty Knight
Warring against sequestration
(Until by Nirvana)
Abeyance devours this blight.

~Dream
       You starry-eyed wayfarers,
                Surrender sovereignty to credence
             When Star-crossed
                   Conspire against the Fates
                          For when Elysium
                                    Is your Beloved
                       The Ancient of Yore
                                Shall lead you nebulous streams
                              To the Holy Oracle
                                      Prophesying the fulfillment
                                               Of your Intemerate Hope

                                (For Love, myriads doven the skies)
                                      
                   ­               Please Believe,
                                                    Just,
                                                  Believe in me.~
A year old poem I decided to post despite my ambivalence. It pertains to my dream of finding sacrosanct romance; moreover, tis' a romance ensorcelled beneath the diaphanous firmaments. By means of this dreams fulfillment the piety of mine heart shall be made resplendent by the Estival Sol(metaphor for The Divine).
This was more of a free-write than a structured, premeditated poem. You will find symbols and metaphors that I am just now learning the significance of in the context of my life (no, this isn't just a bunch of nonsensical buffoonery in the form of poetry). Being free-associative is creatively emancipatory, you should all attempt it at one point. It is my hope that this piece emboldens you to envisage the dreams that others deem as taboo (and even quixotic or hopelessly ideal). Be well all, be luminaries, be visionaries!

-God Bless <3
She holds my muse captive in a cage with bars of bamboo
I fear if I don't retrieve it I'll never be completed
Use a scapel to spill my guts on loose leaf, then I delete it
It's unworthy, it's too wordy
Got too much love for you I'd be broken if you heard it
And these days, I'm not too sure who recites it
And these days' I'm indifferent with who likes it
Somedays I don't even know the man who writes it
Scribble a wordy flurry and not understand what incites it
It all feels insightless
A pretentious attempt to be righteous
And what is righteousness?
Staring bold faced at the heart of the abyss
Saying even though it's looming I can't be defined by this
Or lose my mind to this, thinking ignorance is bliss
Enlightenment ensorcelled with the progress of humanity
Standing hand in hand with a communal prosperity
No severalty severity
Trade your famous 15 seconds for just one moment of clarity
Frances May 2018
With anvils for feet, the snails may have moved faster, for their noose of anxiety wasn't pulled so tight. They may have covered more than to that of which I see, though the entire existence of their species  may have been as long as I may had been looking. I would shoot arrows of curiosity without knowing where the target be.
  Just as another fairy tale, relief on my feet was seemingly unimaginable, far fetched and unattainable. Like old change, seeds of a variety filled my pockets. The soil and sun were the only things I trusted. Reaping a sow would be a blessing unto me. After years of crawling, discovering, and disappointing wandering with wide eyes, the hills and peaks had shown as a distraction from the lessening softness of my now calloused hands. The necessity of rest was as strong as the need of a newborn baby's mid afternoon nap, but before the seeds are nestled, work mustn't cease. By every stem, petal, fruit, and butterfly, in the center of the valley of a vast bed of wild flowers would I hope to carry this heaviness no more. The desire for this comfort and caress lead me to find a sweet place to rest. For uncountable hours of wandering, only this would be gratification. I came upon a large patch of dirt as dark as midnight. With every handful of soil wriggling of worms graced my hardened palms. Only the ground saw me enchanted by the romance of its potential. The seedlings would be sung; "As you cuddle in the soil, remember that's where your roots will prepare, unto you this watering will fall, as you are all so loyal, I will be loyal to you, the air will give you care, let me lay eyes upon your beautiful hue, as the sun is what you will see, don't leave the soil bare, set yourself free". In the troughs like dried moats, each seed received a adornment of a kiss like that unto a child by their mother. Every hole doused like that of a spring sunflower, and burrowed into the sleeping dusk of dirt with the expectation of an awakening of a blossom. There, as one expects the rising of the sun, I would await the flowers arrival.
I lay suspended by the freedoms of a remote forest. Within the untouched, unadulterated altruistic scene of remoteness, the skepticism let drained. Knowing my skin may not be slaughtered by reaching thorns, I undressed layers of tattered threads. Most of what would freely escape from my lips were the enticement of belief motivated by bliss and enjoyment. Where my skin remained blushed and dewy from the days after the solstice of summer, to the later days of leaves saying good bye to the trees extended arms, and grass frosted by the baker of autumn, like a lightning bolt strikes at random, as did a stagnancy. The seedlings were viewed upon as the old dark witch from the town: cursed. It was as though they had stage fright and the sun was their audience.
I ask, "why, Lord? Has though forsaken my field? What must I bestow?". Concealed, like a feral cat, was the reasoning for this. As ritual as the church goers Sunday excursion, was my ritual of prayer.
Clouding in my mind happened with contemplation of a new pioneering. I knew this to be only a sliver of land off of the plank of fertile country side. Simultaneous  to this fantasy, a shadow danced in the corner of my eyes. Usually trust worthy was my vision, though it became a mystery. Fear not did I, as I turned to follow the darkness, I saw nothing forthright. It's reappearance came as a *****, but as one would in a sword fight, I followed the elusive figure within my eyes. It was as though there was an unsuspecting solar eclipse at high noon. The figure didn't remain hidden, and the dancing ceased. As a knight removes their armor to cradle a loving partner, he opened his cloak to reveal a man with the most poignant essence of freshly mowed grass, smoldering ashes, and a thanksgiving meal. These things were the quintessence of my childhood. His eyes, not beating, but, like a baby's glare, soft and forgiving, unlike the folktales my father told me. Did my eyes deceive me? Ensorcelled, I had succumb to this. Uncontrollably my eyes repeatedly vertically gaze upon him. I met no gaze, but darkness. While the remembrance of evening tide pull you further if not in recognition of its power, without choice, or fight, I had succumb to this. Weighed down by rocks you couldn't see, as though I was called to my knees. His presence eluded to a parental guide. When I lay there, as I become sunk in the soil, He advised me. "This acreage will be your ball and chain for entering this land. With out excavation, Intentions of leaving your possessions have inhibited exiting though you desire continuation. You must water it with your tears". My golden hair became brown with dirt, and my pale skin so dark, as I wept till the sun grew cold, and the moon graced me like a lullaby with soft illumination.
As a once saturated sponge goes dry, by every last drop, drained dry were my eyes, and the ground enriched. After the clock hit twelve for the 10th night, The reaper spoke again. He said "This land was mine. I set it aside, so those who have evil in their heart may not reap what they sow here, so it may not be robbed of its nutrients for something unwholesome. Within it's enchantment, the soil may only be fertile by those who will enrich it with passion. If you wanted to leave you wouldn't be confined, but if your heart remained, as would you. You will stay until you may leave with something beautiful. This priceless soil belonged to me, as this is where my betrothed had lain. The tables have turned because it has been sowed by a someone who has surrendered to me. Your patients serves you. My dear, The wealth is in your heart." His encompassing gratitude, and cherishment remained, as he had left. The grandfather clock sung to the flowers, as did I.
I was always told only the sun could bring beauty in life. I wore a black veil of naive belief. The garden appeared to always have been misted. The sun kissed my plants so gently, their blooms were welcomes to this realm, and the wind would make them frolic together like a colorful oceanic wave, but instead of dolphins peaking the dense surface, you would see the makers of the garden. Relentless pollinators made the perimeter buzz. You could see the twinkle and flutter of every dragonfly, lady bug, butterfly, and bee as their fluorescent wings caught the sun. Almost as though my life depended on it, like a bear in a cave of constant hibernation, I would nestle myself in this secret garden. Leaving here with nothing but flowers intertwined in my hair, and around my heart.
Nicole Bataclan Mar 2012
I had been feeling a little off lately,
It must be because of this strange melody.
Hearing it once sent an arrow through my heart,
The purest form of pain transformed into art.

A song that was written in a different era,
Each rendition of it revives the trauma.
Words you utter send shivers down my spine,
Between love and pain lies but a fine line.

Ensorcelled by this haunting melody,
No other song has had this effect on me.
I'm trembling inside in awe of your voice,
Hanging to every emotion as if I had no choice.

Blues is playing one note and it grabs you,
Music that is so honest it unglues you.
Cannot listen without a knot it my stomach,
The purest form of pain stuck in my heart.
Stephan Sep 2016


The squires stood the castle gate
of sword and shield they bear
Awaiting armored knights to be,
lone sentries now aware

A beating sun of torrid feel
embarked the sky this day
As voices called from eastern heights
in echoes cast away

The entrance braced of timber thick,
yon bridge drawn to the sky
To dare not open for the howl
of woodland spirit’s cry

Banished long ago it was
for evil spells it spate
Turned villagers upon themselves
in angered fits of hate

Yet on this simmered summer’s eve
the squires balked their stead
Hypnotically the whispers called
so deep within their head

Manipulated by the breeze
of kindness floating faux
‘mid promises of purity
as white as driven snow

“They cast me o’er” a voice did sift
“No fault I swear of me,
I mingled not in lone affairs
this promise comes you see”

“A certain few, low cretins all
of lies they sold as true
and pockets lined of purest gold
to do what they must do”  

“I plead a pardon so to prove
my quest is merely fair
In words of mystic wizard speak
I pledge to only share"

"Hear me, on this mystic night
of incantation's win
Stand aside this harbored fear
so I may live again”

In hazy gaze and wild look
the squires sealed the fate
‘pon lowering the bridge of wood
and opening the gate

When once within, the smile gone
as crimson eyes now stare
“I’ll bring this kingdom to its knees,
I will again, I swear”

Then sharpened claws of viper’s speed
released on angered breath
Did slice ensorcelled squire's flesh
to bleed until their death*

To be continued…maybe
nadine shane Nov 2017
in the morning,
you wonder to yourself why
you feel effusive,

and then you remember that
you were left with
nothing but melancholy.

he left you with pieces of yourself
still under his teeth and you
ponder why you
feel so empty.

you always put fragments
of your tumultuous love on
anything else that ensorcelled
you and yet you still
question why you
feel so vapid.

in the afternoon,
you gaze at the gaps of
your woven heart,

admiring how you still chose
to love albeit it has been
treated by uncouth and
cantankerous men, grabbing your
jagged edges and claiming it as a phantom's home.

walking home was certainly an
experience for you, you were
scrupulous on avoiding the cracks
on the sidewalks because you
were afraid you would fall too deep and wander around the empty
hallows of quandary.

in the evening,
you wear
a careworn visage.

the efflorescence that you
once desired for was kept
untouched at the kiss of the
pale moonlight, swooning you with every echo of apologies dripping down
your god-forsaken body.

your heart, beaten and
turned into everything
sublime, is ensconced behind
the walls, cosseting the bruises
he had left you and not once did his
eyes become rueful.

loving is a mixture of
boiling thoughts and sleepless
nights, a state of perplexities
wherein you plead that
maybe, just maybe, he still thinks
about you too.
henlo stinky this is my first published poem here on this site (-:
(Let's sojourn into nightmares...)

She awakes,
To the rays of the ghostly lamp,
Conjured by thirsty thoughts,
Burning to quench...

She became prey to panic,
Fear, screams,
She was fractured,
Into shards of paints...

He; the ghost,
Was an open portal,
Ensorcelled by calls of scoundrels,
Flaming in his mind...

He growls,
Breath of fire kindles his thirst,
Tongue panting,
Ready to devour...

Wicked strokes amidst waterfall,
Melting bullets in bumpy strides,
Bursting fire on energy strings,
And ghost elopes.

Nightmares become daydreams,
In fugacious moments,
And this voyage of madness,
Ends at the shore of regrets.

#El_Magnifico™
Reccurring memories,  nightmares!
Dondaycee Feb 2018
In this “time”, this “journey”,
This experience of:  “knowing myself”,
I take time; appreciating how “I” remembered my wealth and was a king-
“- I am a king”
“I am a soul evolving after involution because my intuitions fully “well””
I said I, there was another…
Another meaning…
I credit she, that was a queen,
“She is a queen, who gave love”,
She is a soul functioning as a higher self, in a higher dimensional state,
Time reflected me, which evoked self, that then gave self-awareness of my current space, which erased, the limited concept of time,
Then came more opportunities to see my,
Many ways of thinking, that molds my many ways of seeing thyself, my personality that reflects the many physical manifestations of my inner health,
Which brought me to my inner self,
And that brought recognition in understanding the difference between the body and the mental health,
Which brought dreams where I’d journey as a different self,
Then came the understanding of life, an experience,
It’s creating a journey in the environment you’re in,
Then experiencing it to get back to happiness; again,
Look, when I speak, understand,
What you see are the many thoughts in a vibration that manifest into, “myself”,
I’m only giving you wisdom, using ancient philosophy that we all know,
Understand well being, a human’s true wealth,
This is knowledge that I’ve learned from the theory,
“As above, so below”
That’s Hermeticsm... Wait… Greek mythology in Rome?
Hermes and Mercury?
I thought the Romans burnt down the library of Alexandria and all the knowledge,
Welllll, if money is power, go to college,
But I believe it’s knowledge; experience, that builds these universities,
Just like the universe-
“Hush, you have to properly navigate them home”
Oh yeah, you gotta know the yin and yang,
It’s the same thing as As above, So below,
This is Chinese philosophy,
WAIT! ...
Wait, please tell me you see the connection between politics and society,
Countries and History,
“How” we were divided and “why” it was a mystery,
How religions are stories and philosophy, and things that gods would teach,
And it still isn’t clear that the people we praise, are what we can be if we aspire to be,
And that the experience we’re experiencing as a human species is only prophecy, because we forgot our roots, the biology, on how our thoughts assembled the body consciously,
And how to be a king, become a god, it’s all philosophy?
Its like Star Wars and Star Trek, this whole awakening slash conscious thing,
This means theory is life,
Theoretically speaking, if metaphysics and fantasy; that’s Sci-Fi , were looked at as religion; by that I mean held with faith and a grain of salt,
Again theoretically speaking, movies would be life,
Again I emphasize that theory, it is life,
So what is life?
I say life is a consciousness that creates and experience itself,
In many dimensions which is why it’s understandable we’re living many lives at once and time doesn’t exist,
We’re constantly extending ourselves, if that’s hard to conceive then perceive, just look at how many times in this poem I extended the self,
Next is the “Big Crunch”, evolution,
After “The Big Bang” which was involution,
The experience of individuality, devolution,
Which is why we focus on this illusion,
Everything existing above and below are connected,
It’s just an extension of our true self,
This type of awareness came from true love,
A queen that was ensorcelled and devalued,
The pleasures of a female are so, De-Valued,
I mean, there’s a decrease in the chakra Sacral,
A decrease in DV (Direct Voltage), there’s no balance, no DV (Disparity Vector),  which is why D&V (DcK & Vgina) ends in DV (Dark Vengeance) which leads to DV (Domestic Violence) or a decrease in DV (Daily Values) which leads to DV (Decreasing Value) which are DT, (Dark Thoughts), DV’s (Decoy Vehicles) that creates DV (Dense Vibrations), decreasing the concept of DV (Diversification Value) which is why we be DV (Disabled Vehicles), and physically manifest a DV (Dark Vision), this virtual reality where a species is DV (Divided),
DT (Define Time) because I’m convinced it’s a combination of IUDT,
(Individuals Unconscious Direct Thoughts),
It means I, You; Depicting Things, and that’s enough VD (validation), a quick C&E (Cause and Effect) on how D&V can lead to the pleasures of a female being Devalued,
But that’s another story, I learned that by observing me,
After observing she,
I just appreciated how she smiled when she was unable to see,
If there truly was a light, which enable belief,
I call it faith, others say create because she created relief,
Truly in me, so I relentlessly searched for knowledge to attain and arrange a way for her to be free because again I’m truly grateful that she,
Gave love, a true reflection that was dormant but naval to me,
I learned so that I can serve her, but that quickly turned towards others which awoke clairvoyance in me,
Jesus is what I aspire to be but there’s still this burning desire to be,
In the arms of this lady, this queen that cyphers in dreams until I wake and such love still remains to be seen,
But that’s another story, I’m inn love, I give love without expecting a thing,
It’s a way of life, which is why I’m constantly responsibly subjecting this awareness, this consciousness thing,
Because I honestly; at least modestly believe in this concomitantly,
And that previously, I am a king, and she is a queen,
I didn’t say “was” because in this “time”, this “journey”,
This experience of: “knowing myself”,
The previously conceived concept of time is no longer a thing.
#Day #me #life #love
Dondaycee Oct 2017
Miss you,
I don’t know if I’m allowed to say that, but, I miss you,
Misused,
I know it’s not healthy to playback,
The memories of karma I paid back,
But I’m thankful for the balance that made that,
A light in the darkness that dates back,
That stayed in the shadows when faith cracked,
I guess I’m looking for the words to say that, it’s you,
Who saved me,
Hope was the final thought worth saving,
Grave me,
Manifest a death because they hate me,
Am I disgusting, awful thoughts filling the mind lately,
Because beauty be slipping as a daydream,
And daily,
I think about the times I went crazy,
Can’t repeat these actions to a lady,
I promised that I’ll love my baby safely,
Without expectations or a maybe,
Loving from a distance, because labels could end this, it’d be wrong to pretend the trips I took in your eyes aren’t what saved me,
I tried to convince myself that this idea is make belief,
But the thought of you gave a solid view that only fate could see,
So I followed faith, somehow someway and it disagreed with make belief,
Hope, it gave me
Believe, it made me.
If timing is everything, it’s patience I seek,
Time,
There are times when I want to be under your arms,
Times when I want to talk about life,
Times when I want to let you in,
I’m,
Growing colder because, every encounter with you is warm,
Ensorcelled muchacha, shine your divine light,
My lady, my love, my lifetime friend,
I’m looking forward to the days,
Where we’re no longer separated by choices,
To the days when,
I can send whispers in the wind, you’ll receive my voice and,
Feel the warmth of my last breath,
Doing its best to protect you from the surrounding noises,
The days where I’ll be able to give you the best of me,
Even now I do my best to give you what’s left of me,
I know pain is temporary, but I refuse to let you experience it,
If such a tragedy is deemed right, Romeo and Juliet will define the rest of me,
My whole life I’ve been without love, and the moment I find it, I have to let it be,
Because her experiencing her experience is more important to me, so, I let her be,
Everyday I adore this situation, to allow free will while loving a soul,
Whom roars like I, and shines green and gold,
A love story happening, before a shift in consciousness,
With the life I live, in a time like this,
This appreciation took confidence,
Promising, this love story is,
Competence because of Providence,
Divine mother and father uniting for an Omni sense,
This is all I have, all that this world had gave me,
I know that life is bigger than the parents that made me,
But lately,
I’ve been thinking gravely,
I only want to exist in this reality, if the force duality construct a totality gallery,
For memories distant of I and the woman that saved me
Annie Feb 2017
You took the road
A million others have taken
But you took it alone
A troubadour
The watery strain
Of your Orphean ballads
Too much for
The other myrmidons
So they left you
To wilt the willows
Alone.

Acetone will not unhinge
An epoxy this old.
You’re stuck
In another place
Another time
And though the man
Who put you there
Is no more.
You’re still quaking
In the aftermath
Of his seismic waves.

And others
Though once ensorcelled
By the sight
Of beauty in pain
Are now repulsed
By your entrenchment
In its vines.
Ken Pepiton May 12
La vita è bella

Hold any taken chance, waiting in mind,
planning action lucidly, clearly seeing through
hoped
t'be once
before, now
t'never was, yet
nor could have been,
justice just for its own sake
right now, only once, now,
but while our minds were
at the circus, ensorcelled,
entranced, as seen on TV
entertained out
of our minds
at the counting fair,
queued up to see the final
quarrel using nukes,
contained
within the mobilized mass
of we, the people, singing jibberish

and raving ecstatic
as early man who had no hell,

joyous nonsensed we shapen cloud, dancing.

But, that's not you, is it?
No time to watch the end of the world.

Life is a chore,
a duty assigned, a calling
to serve the whole, order established,
after pangs of disestablishmentarianism's errors.

Matter made from energy, mind bending
best intended results, except… having

the good sense God gave a green apple.
Return on investment from my grandma.

The aim of all good ideas is beautiful.
The expectant success, seen before being
taken in stride, step after step, to life's end.

Waiting, while meandering in life's realized
library of all we have gained after realizing
knowledge recognized as comforting, really
works in the core chaos knotted dreads real
dim points of light, from the old city on a hill,

a mighty fortress,
a bulwark, never failing,

enlightening the fog of war, beyond which
no life does not reshape its reasoning
weighing machine,
perpendicular pivot balance,
serpentine millipede weform worth…
true balance and jeweled pivots,
silicone slick speeding ion quest…

no hidden meaning, mere idle time revaluation.

Just thinking, adjusting the load,
hard nuts we take to be cracked
at the fire we share.

Be having, rationed good sense,
detecting pattern sequential,
after history is now,
after now is next,
and next, again,
upon comprehension
made ritually exceptionalized,

there is no place like home, the idea…

in traditional stories rebroadcast into
cultural consciousness comfort zone
allegorically religimenting, hope
each winter and spring
summer and fall… working
no need
for pointless pain
or friction unmollified,

golden oil economy of Greece,
illiteracy blissfully believing the noble
stories told and retold, it's a wonderful life.

We can smile, we can hide the horrors of war.
But Art as truth's goad through life, ties

token reminders to hearken when thinking
wishing praying were hopings forseen, just so.

Sleep, and rise and head toward tomorrow.
Watching your steps until you're sure,
from then on
the way is made smooth
blessed assurance, balance is mine

dulling joint effort and toil
freeing hands to manipulate,
fibers and spider's webbing,
in to toys to pay attention to,

seasonal significance literally lost
as the survivors
from past holy terrors refuse
reconfusion, defusing the future bomb.

So, say we let go all our certainties,
waiting absent mindedly
taken up
in mystery religious ligamental nets
of reminding caution, cuidado,]

step lightly.
La vita è bella
For your enjoyment, or mine, same joy in the whole moment

— The End —