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"envelop" poems
Your love is like an ocean It never ends From the surface, it dazzles It is wide, but calm It reflects light and warmth A frightening and exciting adventure Which is ever-changing Ever-constant It is deep, filled with so many mysteries Yet left for me to discover It is eternal, from the day the world began to the day it ends Just like the ebb and flow Of the waves So let your waters inspire me, envelop me Let me swim deeper into the depths And learn to find your secret places And on the day I have to leave this world Let me drown, content and at peace In the wonders of your incredible love
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May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 11:38 AM UTC
Your love is like an ocean
A monster appears like one from your childhood An inner battle commences Between the bad and the good At first, you'd find them in movies or under the bed Now as you grow, you fear The monsters live in your head Disguised as shadows in night, New monsters now appear These monsters are sneakier, They know what you fear Struggling to breathe, your eyes filled with fear Trapped, alone, no where to hide Can't escape, it's far and it's near This monster is tricky, It plays tricks on your mind, You plead for it to stop, But there's no where to hide This monster knows you It makes you question your past With a bleak outlook, You wonder how long this might last The one place you felt safe Before this monster invaded Now your mind is no solace Every good memory faded How do you run from something That plays tricks on your mind? How do you know who you are When it's yourself you can't find? How do you feel joy from things that now trigger pain? How do you move forward with life when only fear remains? We all grow up It's a natural part of life No one ever warns us though That life comes with great strife No one ever tells us To be afraid of our thoughts Feeling lost and alone With many battles still to be fought Once this monster invades, It's hard to get back To a life once lived, Before this monster attacked Our parents warned us of the bad guys outside They never told us of the ones in our minds And now this monster has control You no longer recognize the mirror You pray for this to end, For prayers fall upon deaf ears You question your sanity, You question your morals This monster knows how to torture To envelop you in its toil You know you have a battle ahead This monster can't defeat Crippled by the past You must overcome and beat This is an illness This is internal torture But you mustn't forget You've got a bright future You must fight on, Between this inner war Good versus evil, What do you fight for? Fight for love, Fight to win back your mind Fight for family and joy Fight for what you still must find Monsters can attack Anyone, anytime Lest not judge For you never know when a monster might prey upon YOUR mind Author note: end the stigma of mental illness. Talk about it.
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Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
Light and Dark: my battle with OCD, intrusive thoughts, anxiety and depression
A monster appears like one from your childhood An inner battle commences Between the bad and the good At first, you'd find them in movies or under the bed Now as you grow, you fear The monsters live in your head Disguised as shadows in night, New monsters now appear These monsters are sneakier, They know what you fear Struggling to breathe, your eyes filled with fear Trapped, alone, no where to hide Can't escape, it's far and it's near This monster is tricky, It plays tricks on your mind, You plead for it to stop, But there's no where to hide This monster knows you It makes you question your past With a bleak outlook, You wonder how long this might last The one place you felt safe Before this monster invaded Now your mind is no solace Every good memory faded How do you run from something That plays tricks on your mind? How do you know who you are When it's yourself you can't find? How do you feel joy from things that now trigger pain? How do you move forward with life when only fear remains? We all grow up It's a natural part of life No one ever warns us though That life comes with great strife No one ever tells us To be afraid of our thoughts Feeling lost and alone With many battles still to be fought Once this monster invades, It's hard to get back To a life once lived, Before this monster attacked Our parents warned us of the bad guys outside They never told us of the ones in our minds And now this monster has control You no longer recognize the mirror You pray for this to end, For prayers fall upon deaf ears You question your sanity, You question your morals This monster knows how to torture To envelop you in its toil You know you have a battle ahead This monster can't defeat Crippled by the past You must overcome and beat This is an illness This is internal torture But you mustn't forget You've got a bright future You must fight on, Between this inner war Good versus evil, What do you fight for? Fight for love, Fight to win back your mind Fight for family and joy Fight for what you still must find Monsters can attack Anyone, anytime Lest not judge For you never know when a monster might prey upon YOUR mind Author note: end the stigma of mental illness. Talk about it.
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81
She strides down the street, Holds that cancer stick up to her mouth, Takes a deep breath in, Filling her lungs with lethal smoke, Gradually rotting away her Interior. Her heart beats out of her chest. [A heart divided between two hearts.] He’s waiting at the street corner Between the alley of lust and the Path of ignorance. She sees his silhouette in the Distance, a dark apparition. Her heart leaps out of her chest, Towards him, Reaching for him, Propelling her to him. She had absolutely no control over the matter. The other man she loves is home Alone, waiting for her too. Moments ago, he Held her in his arms, Kissed her goodbye, Told her to hurry back soon. “I love you.” “I love you, too” - the words Suddenly conveyed No meaning to her. She told him she was Running an errand, when, In reality, She was running away From him. [*A heart divided between two hearts Can never really be a heart.*] His love suffocates her. His love drowns her In its constancy, In its predictability. With him, she feels like a Bird with its wings ripped off. Held captive, in a wire cage. [*A heart divided between two hearts Can never beat the way it should.*] How can a woman with two men Who love her Feel so Staggeringly Alone? Who will love her until their Disintegrating hearts turn into Simply dust. [*A heart divided between two hearts Can never really keep from rupturing, Infecting the body with its own poisons.*] So she lets her underground lover Envelop her in his arms And kiss her until both of their lips Are numb, Until they both want more. Until they cannot restrain themselves. His love releases her out of her Cage, allows her to fly once again. The passion of these moments Will never be forgotten. His love brings the roses back to Her lifeless cheeks, brings life Back to the void inside her. And, his love allows her To fly back home, once again, Straight into the arms of the Man who is her keeper.
0
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 3:05 AM UTC
Torn
She strides down the street, Holds that cancer stick up to her mouth, Takes a deep breath in, Filling her lungs with lethal smoke, Gradually rotting away her Interior. Her heart beats out of her chest. [A heart divided between two hearts.] He’s waiting at the street corner Between the alley of lust and the Path of ignorance. She sees his silhouette in the Distance, a dark apparition. Her heart leaps out of her chest, Towards him, Reaching for him, Propelling her to him. She had absolutely no control over the matter. The other man she loves is home Alone, waiting for her too. Moments ago, he Held her in his arms, Kissed her goodbye, Told her to hurry back soon. “I love you.” “I love you, too” - the words Suddenly conveyed No meaning to her. She told him she was Running an errand, when, In reality, She was running away From him. [*A heart divided between two hearts Can never really be a heart.*] His love suffocates her. His love drowns her In its constancy, In its predictability. With him, she feels like a Bird with its wings ripped off. Held captive, in a wire cage. [*A heart divided between two hearts Can never beat the way it should.*] How can a woman with two men Who love her Feel so Staggeringly Alone? Who will love her until their Disintegrating hearts turn into Simply dust. [*A heart divided between two hearts Can never really keep from rupturing, Infecting the body with its own poisons.*] So she lets her underground lover Envelop her in his arms And kiss her until both of their lips Are numb, Until they both want more. Until they cannot restrain themselves. His love releases her out of her Cage, allows her to fly once again. The passion of these moments Will never be forgotten. His love brings the roses back to Her lifeless cheeks, brings life Back to the void inside her. And, his love allows her To fly back home, once again, Straight into the arms of the Man who is her keeper.
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72
*And like moments were words I made a wish to the stars…* And now *Soon I will hold you close envelop your heart kiss your loving soul and when the words become so real that we cannot stand the electric energy that flows... Those moments will be ours.. alone with each other... And again and again we will meet after dark as the moon yawns in awakening and the only light to be seen embraces us in a sparkling soft shade of silver blue. In that secret place we will always meet where the clouds greet the swaying trees sprinkling moonlight in the shadows as your touch lingers on my skin a radiant heat melding slowly with the tingling warmth your love blankets me in.*
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Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 11:03 AM UTC
To The Stars I Wished
I asked my mother for a glass kaleidoscope, but instead she handed me three shots of wine and a field guide to running galactic bases, which I guess is her way of selling dreams at low prices. I have yet to understand a coffee shop's symmetry, so I embrace the scrupulous company of a dragon-riding-a-butterfly. One spin around the Milky Way leaves the butterfly with holey wings and the dragon vomiting in my make-shift kaleidoscope. The apple tree in the corner of the living room ruins the symmetry of the space and I have to chug another glass of wine to make up for the peach tree I couldn't dream about and another wrong note sung by the basses. The song's in too low of a key, which is the basis behind the evil chinchilla's plan to mass-produce butterfly farms as part of a larger goal to pillage the dreams of dreamers. Luckily, we all have a handy-dandy kaleidoscope and a bag (or two) of bitter-tasting wine stolen from their boxes -- too much symmetry. My brother put a block on local news; the symmetry of our county's border was too much for me to bear. He bases his action (when mother asks) on the wine he didn't drink, so I throw the broken butterfly out the window where it lands on my nephew's spinning kaleidoscope. He doesn't know it yet, but that drum he's banging will envelop his dreams. A hike to the top of the cliff (a leap) re-energizes my dreams and I still can't relate to the maple leaves and their symmetry, but at least I can look through a lampshade at the kaleidoscope of trees dancing below me. There are seven thousand bases yet to run and they still haven't caught the butterfly, so a boy yells, "Drink!" and I take another sip of wine. The dragon and chinchilla are tipsy from the wine at this point and discuss the difference between dreams and electricity while my mother sautés the butterfly in ice cream and abstract ideas. The symmetry of my right ankle is still a bother, so I tell the basses to sing a quarter tone flat while I collide a scope. Off goes dragon-with-butterfly (once again) and I finish the wine. I make my nephew a chinchilla-skin kaleidoscope and rinse the rocks stained with dreams. My mother comments on the apple tree's symmetry while the trees below keep running bases.
0
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 9:27 AM UTC
Dragon-flies (Sestina)
I asked my mother for a glass kaleidoscope, but instead she handed me three shots of wine and a field guide to running galactic bases, which I guess is her way of selling dreams at low prices. I have yet to understand a coffee shop's symmetry, so I embrace the scrupulous company of a dragon-riding-a-butterfly. One spin around the Milky Way leaves the butterfly with holey wings and the dragon vomiting in my make-shift kaleidoscope. The apple tree in the corner of the living room ruins the symmetry of the space and I have to chug another glass of wine to make up for the peach tree I couldn't dream about and another wrong note sung by the basses. The song's in too low of a key, which is the basis behind the evil chinchilla's plan to mass-produce butterfly farms as part of a larger goal to pillage the dreams of dreamers. Luckily, we all have a handy-dandy kaleidoscope and a bag (or two) of bitter-tasting wine stolen from their boxes -- too much symmetry. My brother put a block on local news; the symmetry of our county's border was too much for me to bear. He bases his action (when mother asks) on the wine he didn't drink, so I throw the broken butterfly out the window where it lands on my nephew's spinning kaleidoscope. He doesn't know it yet, but that drum he's banging will envelop his dreams. A hike to the top of the cliff (a leap) re-energizes my dreams and I still can't relate to the maple leaves and their symmetry, but at least I can look through a lampshade at the kaleidoscope of trees dancing below me. There are seven thousand bases yet to run and they still haven't caught the butterfly, so a boy yells, "Drink!" and I take another sip of wine. The dragon and chinchilla are tipsy from the wine at this point and discuss the difference between dreams and electricity while my mother sautés the butterfly in ice cream and abstract ideas. The symmetry of my right ankle is still a bother, so I tell the basses to sing a quarter tone flat while I collide a scope. Off goes dragon-with-butterfly (once again) and I finish the wine. I make my nephew a chinchilla-skin kaleidoscope and rinse the rocks stained with dreams. My mother comments on the apple tree's symmetry while the trees below keep running bases.
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39
Two people both alike in character Of the opposite sexes Sit across a candlelit dinner In a lovely, fancy restaurant The room is incandescently lit With a dimness that balances between ever so bright and ever so dark Allowing for a gold tinge to envelop the restaurant But not gold enough to take away notice of the lit candle set upon the White table cloth The waiter appears and asks the couple What they would like for dinner The couple order the food and drink Much to the waiter's delight the food and drink is expensive The waiter returns shortly With a bottle of their finest Pinto Noir And pours the blood-red wine slowly Into each of the couple's glasses And leaves the couple to sip upon their sweet sin delicately The food is laid out Triumphant in its debut A vast smorgasbord of entries Including frog legs, crab, and delicious ****** steak The couple prepare their silverware for the battle that is eating The man stabs his knife into the ****** steak Cutting it open and spilling the juices all over his plate He stabs the meat with the fork and guides it toward his mouth And slowly but surely chomps upon it with the strength of his fine jaw And swallows the meat into the unexposed mystery that is his stomach The woman begins to mutilate the frog legs with her knife Cutting into the once moveable limbs And stabs the limbs with her fork and brings it to her mouth And delicately bites the limbs and politely chews And swallows it into her fine and precious insides The couple then split the crab legs Using their bear hands they split the shells open And remove the meat or **** it right out of the shell They swallow it whole and do nothing with the shell Leaving the shell aside to be as still as a carcass The waiter arrives and asks how the food was The couple obliged him with their satisfaction The bill is handed to them and the couple pay it Leaving a hefty tip They then leave the lovingly dimly lit restaurant To enjoy the night that is ahead of them
0
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 1:37 AM UTC
A Dinner
Two people both alike in character Of the opposite sexes Sit across a candlelit dinner In a lovely, fancy restaurant The room is incandescently lit With a dimness that balances between ever so bright and ever so dark Allowing for a gold tinge to envelop the restaurant But not gold enough to take away notice of the lit candle set upon the White table cloth The waiter appears and asks the couple What they would like for dinner The couple order the food and drink Much to the waiter's delight the food and drink is expensive The waiter returns shortly With a bottle of their finest Pinto Noir And pours the blood-red wine slowly Into each of the couple's glasses And leaves the couple to sip upon their sweet sin delicately The food is laid out Triumphant in its debut A vast smorgasbord of entries Including frog legs, crab, and delicious ****** steak The couple prepare their silverware for the battle that is eating The man stabs his knife into the ****** steak Cutting it open and spilling the juices all over his plate He stabs the meat with the fork and guides it toward his mouth And slowly but surely chomps upon it with the strength of his fine jaw And swallows the meat into the unexposed mystery that is his stomach The woman begins to mutilate the frog legs with her knife Cutting into the once moveable limbs And stabs the limbs with her fork and brings it to her mouth And delicately bites the limbs and politely chews And swallows it into her fine and precious insides The couple then split the crab legs Using their bear hands they split the shells open And remove the meat or **** it right out of the shell They swallow it whole and do nothing with the shell Leaving the shell aside to be as still as a carcass The waiter arrives and asks how the food was The couple obliged him with their satisfaction The bill is handed to them and the couple pay it Leaving a hefty tip They then leave the lovingly dimly lit restaurant To enjoy the night that is ahead of them
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43
I’ve got a history of one night stands. Nights that end alone, Adding up the lovers it all blurs into an escapade of ecstasy.                  Abusadora, Is what is written across my heart. So diseased, and devoured I can’t help the desire I have to be touched, and consumed. Eat all my words, envelop all that I am. Let me take you in, and let you rot inside for the night. False connections. Yet my body knows what to do next, Just get undressed and let my insatiable appetite do the rest. I left you behind, on purpose. I had you leave my titillating circus. No need for you to stay, When I cannot even begin to behave. I am my own best company. Especially when I become what one would define as, Aroused. So I’ll teach myself to remember that history is often repeated. I’ll dispose of the man that thinks he is worthy Of all that is that makes me. For there is no other sensation best kept As the ones my own body does *****
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Aug 19, 2010
Aug 19, 2010 at 3:03 AM UTC
************
As I reach for you time and time again, you surprise me with just how perfect you are. You're the fleeting dream in which I cannot grasp. You're so close yet so far away. And as you blind my vision, I don't realize the damage you inflict upon me. And as I leave the others to sail by themselves, your green light is all I see, your expensive voice is all I hear, your soft lips are all I taste, your short-lived love is all I feel. As a piercing pain and a diluted red envelop me, I reach out to what I desperately believe in. And as I sail to the end of the world, I forget my fellow yet poetic sailor. Never knowing the pain I cause my poor old sport.
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Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
Jay Gatsby (from The Great Gatsby novel)
Strong winds today atop the meditation rock As I see the ever expanding geometry of the world My hands dance to the waves of euphoria that just keep building My feet, intertwined with the grass and dirt that envelop them Respond with quick movements and steady timing Whenever, wherever, forever The sun sinks it's beautiful face lower into the horizon I wave goodbye as I embrace the cold breeze Red, blue, yellow, green, purple even strands and strings and waves of energy follow me and appear everywhere i go from the very second I put the paper in my mouth to the very end of my life The energy, the flow, is forever. Until next time - Moonforest
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Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
Geometry
o halogen light with CD and cassette holder how your ribs they envelop a promise of symphony as you stand tall and straight like a guard at the gate you relieve all my troubles with your blinding light bubbles you brighten my day keep the shadows away though your color is lightless you make me so nightless your a wiry lifeline steals perception of time how quick the hours fly by i'll never know top of your glow to the tip of my toe your electric insides could frizzle the tides and your mental effect... well... it gives me good rides
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May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC
ODE TO HALOGEN LIGHT WITH CD AND CASETTE HOLDER
sleep with me in the most innocent sense of the word. lay by my side and envelop me in the sanctuary of your arms. let me leech your heat and bury my face into your chest. run your fingers down my spine and whisper sweet nothings into my hair. play with my hair and hold me close. sing softly to me as my eyelids droop. take me with you into the dream land where love is easy and i can kiss you without interruption. wake me up with butterfly kisses and morning breath that smells sweet to me. kiss me on the nose before you get out of bed and tell me you'll see me tonight. i'll lay by myself in a bed that's cold now and count the seconds until i get to sleep with you again.
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Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 7:34 PM UTC
hope
If I have a daughter I will name her Katrina Remind her she is beautiful Brought forth from the passion of the sea She is a mix of warm Atlantic winds strong enough to devastate a nation in just a puff of her breath wild enough to tracer the ocean stretch out her wings and fly watchful enough to remember that spinning is dangerous but curious enough to want to go find land In Winter, she hibernates waiting for warmer weather to envelop her soul and bring life to her feet In Spring, she stretches out her arms and yawns, smiling as the sun’s rays caress her face In Summer, she giggles and asks to travel, whip across the ocean sprint across the earth She has no idea that exploring Surging through the sea will bring destruction but when I tell her she only laughs and says Mom, you are the eye of my storm and I will keep you safe So, in Autumn, I will buy her a ticket to anywhere and as she spins out of my home I brace myself for her eye to shrink and her storm to intensify because I know what is coming While she loses herself in the ecstasy of life I shield myself as the eye wall, the freest of her passions, crashes down on me with the force of 400 tornadoes But I smile because I know it will be over soon because winter is coming and the rains will cease to fall and she will settle down into her new life and her new home and one day I will get a call “Mom, our daughter’s name is Sandy,” And I will smile and watch from afar as history repeats itself and once again I will brace myself for the most beautiful of hurricanes
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Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 12:31 AM UTC
Katrina
If I have a daughter I will name her Katrina Remind her she is beautiful Brought forth from the passion of the sea She is a mix of warm Atlantic winds strong enough to devastate a nation in just a puff of her breath wild enough to tracer the ocean stretch out her wings and fly watchful enough to remember that spinning is dangerous but curious enough to want to go find land In Winter, she hibernates waiting for warmer weather to envelop her soul and bring life to her feet In Spring, she stretches out her arms and yawns, smiling as the sun’s rays caress her face In Summer, she giggles and asks to travel, whip across the ocean sprint across the earth She has no idea that exploring Surging through the sea will bring destruction but when I tell her she only laughs and says Mom, you are the eye of my storm and I will keep you safe So, in Autumn, I will buy her a ticket to anywhere and as she spins out of my home I brace myself for her eye to shrink and her storm to intensify because I know what is coming While she loses herself in the ecstasy of life I shield myself as the eye wall, the freest of her passions, crashes down on me with the force of 400 tornadoes But I smile because I know it will be over soon because winter is coming and the rains will cease to fall and she will settle down into her new life and her new home and one day I will get a call “Mom, our daughter’s name is Sandy,” And I will smile and watch from afar as history repeats itself and once again I will brace myself for the most beautiful of hurricanes
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63
wind's cool lips envelop and chill protruding listeners, speckled stamps on crinkled noses or sun-bit, stacked vertebrae dabbing each one, I count the anatomical stars, fibers of you glancing over with the brim of my own beginning, parted just so maps unwind, sighing deeply but robustly seducing the depths of our curiosity, condemning
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Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 3:58 PM UTC
Sunburn
Lavender & Honey You know the age old question: If you were a drink What would you be? I must be alcoholic. My highs and lows are so extreme. And it seems i've been transforming A lot of good little ****** girls Into blood lusting sirens As of late. I would come in a tall glass Brimming with lavender & honey. Honey is usually sweet, But sometimes Can be overshadowed in bitter. And much like nectar I didn't care for myself as a child. Lavender Because I try to be soothing And envelop you in love You can tell me of your pain & fears And I will hold them closer than my own That's what lavender is for, you see. Comfort. I suppose I could have A hint of bergamot as well. Though I swear i'm not pretentious. I'm just trying to make things Interesting. So what do you think? If I was a drink. Would you drink me?
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Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
A Beautiful Woman Passed This To Me In A Tea Shop, After Reading My Poetry.
Behind the building, a one hundred percent green certified building an amazing feat of engineering-science-forward thinking fabulously energy efficient cutting edge building sit solar panels in the sweltering heat, extra heat from the toxic clouds in the sky which now envelop the Earth There, under the panels sit a small band of sheep, who represent the last little bit of progressive wonderfulness visionary design and research based and proven and the future because they eat the grass and there is no need to use toxic fume producing loud unnatural unsustainable lawn mower But the grass is long dead. It is just white and yellow and there are lambs baby sheep who sit and pant underneath the sustainable solar panels without a decent meal in sight. Only stalks and yellow deadness I suggest vitamins or supplements after all there is no grass, only grass out that is watered sustainably and is carefully fenced off from the living sheep underneath the dead panels behind the dead building. Outrage from the forward thinking cutting edge Wi-Fi custodians of the cement and metal building and panels, panels that emit a high pitched hum from a hot metal box and regulate the CO2 in each room automatically The sheep are there to eat the grass if you feed them, even to make them healthier so that they may get up out of their hot suffering and eat some stalks in addition to a little bit of supplemental feed they will not eat the dead grass, and they are there to eat the grass they are not there to be comfortable or healthy they are just sheep But sheep are only living non human feeling beings and not part of the forward thinking cutting edge metal and cement technology that is worth a lot of money and was written up in the paper and got the custodians attention and recognition. And they are just suffering, hot, miserable animals and despite all of our technology, Mars landing solar panels to electricity advance thinking technological wonders our compassion and empathy remain tight and selfish and the dead things, not the living ones, are what we value
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Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 9:43 PM UTC
A Sheep's Work Ethic
Behind the building, a one hundred percent green certified building an amazing feat of engineering-science-forward thinking fabulously energy efficient cutting edge building sit solar panels in the sweltering heat, extra heat from the toxic clouds in the sky which now envelop the Earth There, under the panels sit a small band of sheep, who represent the last little bit of progressive wonderfulness visionary design and research based and proven and the future because they eat the grass and there is no need to use toxic fume producing loud unnatural unsustainable lawn mower But the grass is long dead. It is just white and yellow and there are lambs baby sheep who sit and pant underneath the sustainable solar panels without a decent meal in sight. Only stalks and yellow deadness I suggest vitamins or supplements after all there is no grass, only grass out that is watered sustainably and is carefully fenced off from the living sheep underneath the dead panels behind the dead building. Outrage from the forward thinking cutting edge Wi-Fi custodians of the cement and metal building and panels, panels that emit a high pitched hum from a hot metal box and regulate the CO2 in each room automatically The sheep are there to eat the grass if you feed them, even to make them healthier so that they may get up out of their hot suffering and eat some stalks in addition to a little bit of supplemental feed they will not eat the dead grass, and they are there to eat the grass they are not there to be comfortable or healthy they are just sheep But sheep are only living non human feeling beings and not part of the forward thinking cutting edge metal and cement technology that is worth a lot of money and was written up in the paper and got the custodians attention and recognition. And they are just suffering, hot, miserable animals and despite all of our technology, Mars landing solar panels to electricity advance thinking technological wonders our compassion and empathy remain tight and selfish and the dead things, not the living ones, are what we value
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42
You and I could be lichen. You'd be algae and I fungus. E plural unis. I would envelop you, not to smoother, but to romance, house, protect. You would photosynthisize the sun filling our pantry shelves. Oh, what fun we could have if we were a lichen.
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Mar 1, 2012
Mar 1, 2012 at 2:26 PM UTC
If we were lichen
O Lord, please let Your Light shine, -in and through me- hot and brightly; my Life is Yours and I don’t mind following Your divine directives; with The Word, I hope to wick away Wisdom for a disciplined perspective. I’ve embraced the idea of transparency, where my lifestyle is straight, tapered and upright- with genuine integrity. Disperse the World’s ongoing darkness, that seeks to envelop my existence, with a vibrant flame of Your holiness. With Your assistance, I will handle any and everything that comes my way, while I’m blazing… as a human candle. . . . Author Notes Inspired by: Psa 18:28; 1 John 1:5-7; Prov 20:27 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
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May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC
Poem: Human Candle
9/12/2014 consolation is a prize set upon golden sands that my feet are no longer invited to tread upon solace is a faraway whisper that is only loud enough to be heard in my dreams, and when i am woke, all hope proceeds to dwindle, and solace has gone forth to a new home, and i am left to a melancholic hum which pierces my ears like the tip of a steak knife, and i am left to sit and dream, but how doth the dreamer sing when all that is laid upon him is sorrow, and how doth the dreamer pray when the exodus tears him apart from his mates, and tell me how doth the dreamer love when all his life he hath known pain? how does the dreamer live, when he doth not see the light of the stars any longer, when he doth not feel the warmth of the sun upon his nape, when he doth not feel the wind outside his window? the stars have gone dim, the sun hath frozen outside of his dreams, and the wind doth try to blow him away away, far away, is that what the dreamer longs for? what does the dreamer long for when life no longer fits his fancy? i can say, i do not long for death, but maybe i do, for i am like this dreamer i once longed for the stars to envelop me in their light, and the sun to shield me with it's warmth, and the wind to wrap it's breeze around me but now i do not know what i long for the dreamer hath decayed, the life has begun to rot, the moon has begun to fall out of the sky, and i am afraid of what peril i, the dreamer, may face
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Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 6:19 AM UTC
The Dreamer
I know I've been there, I've given into death and altered the fabric of reality Every day we waste away transfixed by flattened images Of the limitlessness of death Coupled with elusive, Luciferian harm which will befall us all Who subsist on the manipulated reality of the hyperspace information field But one day, enlivened by the festivities of Shakori Hills And the fungal spirits who awoke beside us I walked the irreversible pathway through oblivion Facing cruel destruction and terror For a horrifying passage across Styx into eternity And emerged within a crowd of mollusks dancing to the waves of a musical sea All time suspended in the impossibly drawn-out ****** of the Archetypal wizardry of rhythm, The swirling clumps of faces in Unshakable ecstasy And seemingly responding to the wild currents of my conscious thought; A longing for human touch drew the others closer and closer around me Till they began brushing against me Bumping into me, The flow of the crowd saw its axis at my psychic emanation As once more the last song of all time began with thunderous energy and applause. I escaped the arresting confines of the crowd By willing them aside, wearing, as I suddenly became aware, the shoes of Moses And seeing my muddy feet upon the sands of Egypt But I yet had no understanding Of the nature of the garden of earthly delights Into which I had fallen, And fear began to envelop me, Producing law enforcement officials hawklike swooping in to limit my power. I had but to let go of my acceptance of their power over me to transcend them But fear tethered me to reality, Even as I saw about me a Dharmic mandala Of my past present and future, Generating inexplicable archetypes around me in a manner profoundly defiant Of rational logic. Synchronicity compounded upon me As the Christos within me Brought rain down upon us Forcing us together and leaving me in dumbfounded reverie Of all that had transpired to bring this moment forth What had seemed to be the end of history was in fact The awakening of a new rebirth The first moment of coming to be The union of past, present and future As the reassuring smiles of my trustworthy disciples gently allowed me passage back into a rational existence I beamed in utter gratitude for the eternal life which Christ afforded us. Chaos had subsided back into normalcy But still winked at me In telepathic coincidence. My soul has begun to realize that it resides in all things Soon they are to be reintegrated
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Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 10:16 PM UTC
Shakori Hills
I know I've been there, I've given into death and altered the fabric of reality Every day we waste away transfixed by flattened images Of the limitlessness of death Coupled with elusive, Luciferian harm which will befall us all Who subsist on the manipulated reality of the hyperspace information field But one day, enlivened by the festivities of Shakori Hills And the fungal spirits who awoke beside us I walked the irreversible pathway through oblivion Facing cruel destruction and terror For a horrifying passage across Styx into eternity And emerged within a crowd of mollusks dancing to the waves of a musical sea All time suspended in the impossibly drawn-out ****** of the Archetypal wizardry of rhythm, The swirling clumps of faces in Unshakable ecstasy And seemingly responding to the wild currents of my conscious thought; A longing for human touch drew the others closer and closer around me Till they began brushing against me Bumping into me, The flow of the crowd saw its axis at my psychic emanation As once more the last song of all time began with thunderous energy and applause. I escaped the arresting confines of the crowd By willing them aside, wearing, as I suddenly became aware, the shoes of Moses And seeing my muddy feet upon the sands of Egypt But I yet had no understanding Of the nature of the garden of earthly delights Into which I had fallen, And fear began to envelop me, Producing law enforcement officials hawklike swooping in to limit my power. I had but to let go of my acceptance of their power over me to transcend them But fear tethered me to reality, Even as I saw about me a Dharmic mandala Of my past present and future, Generating inexplicable archetypes around me in a manner profoundly defiant Of rational logic. Synchronicity compounded upon me As the Christos within me Brought rain down upon us Forcing us together and leaving me in dumbfounded reverie Of all that had transpired to bring this moment forth What had seemed to be the end of history was in fact The awakening of a new rebirth The first moment of coming to be The union of past, present and future As the reassuring smiles of my trustworthy disciples gently allowed me passage back into a rational existence I beamed in utter gratitude for the eternal life which Christ afforded us. Chaos had subsided back into normalcy But still winked at me In telepathic coincidence. My soul has begun to realize that it resides in all things Soon they are to be reintegrated
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52
1. Quite far you are,know not where, time and space remain fused, But, our love is still a wild flower, that takes new avatars Fully bloomed, defies sun and rain,other vagaries of seasons, This love is beyond the thrills of flesh, not even nocturnal togetherness. To plant a kiss of love on your lips,the wind will be my messenger, With a gentle caresses  you will be reminded how my lips felt on yours, In reciprocation, with your scent wind would envelop me on return. 2. Our love has faced many harsh climes, still we persisted, Fallen down and walked again limping, long distances, Our love has martyr's blood  running through veins,still brave, sings The song we loved, not together, a new light our love had found. Beyond the point of togetherness,love is indestructible, defying logic. 3. My flesh and blood would wither away,yours too have the same fate, Your beating heart and mine,one day will embrace stillness. Love has to live beyond the tunes of heart beats and our lives. In wind and water, earth and fire, all over the vastness of space, Millions would come together,in life, in death, sing love's paeans
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Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 9:01 AM UTC
Valentine's day promises beyond the limits of time
Hail to Thee, Immortal Three Knowledge we sing on laud Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates Philosophy, to be human awed Teach through time, consciously Nod not, what others fraud Socrates taught, Divine Being God not of brutal Athens’ passions Entity of Beauty, Truth Seeing Goodness unseen in day’s fashions Soul for unalloyed agreeing Lessons humanities’ compassion Talk eternal justice, everlasting life Socrates’ Sovereign Right of Reason Clearly mind deceived sense’s strife Invincible perfection be God’s season Thus, our key to knowledge ever rife Priests who find this, absolute treason No church or Socratic school A barefoot man roamed to teach Socrates mocked for looking a fool His speech not one to simply preach Plato witnesses a martyr’s drool Cruel hemlock, words did so breach Handsome aristocratic youth Plato Followed Socrates’ Eternal Wisdom But soon to find his own credo In Medara to find Euclid and freedom Egyptian geometry to provide dado To Plato life, expression; not a system Eternally an artist, Plato did develop Philosophic circle in Academus groves Bring Athens, world knowledge envelop Discretions of sensations, be not oaths What man may be, an animal jealous Plato’s allegorical cave found in droves As Plato once be Socrates’ disciple So too, to Plato would Aristotle be Passing comprehension archetypal Successions of genius’ visions do see Aristotle taking it step further, as vital To science of hands-on discovery And this is where we see a parting Of two distinctly opposing philosophies Plato being at odds, with science starting Aristotle’s truth, finding no apologies Things not happening by chance imparting Frivolity of duopoly, dichotomy to Socrates But a new era has surely now dawned Science exploring an invisible atom And the seen and unseen correspond So to Aristotle’s, Plato’s, Socrates’ datum Brilliant new philosophies have spawned An abstract notion of conceived stratum
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May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 12:09 PM UTC
Immortal Three
Hail to Thee, Immortal Three Knowledge we sing on laud Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates Philosophy, to be human awed Teach through time, consciously Nod not, what others fraud Socrates taught, Divine Being God not of brutal Athens’ passions Entity of Beauty, Truth Seeing Goodness unseen in day’s fashions Soul for unalloyed agreeing Lessons humanities’ compassion Talk eternal justice, everlasting life Socrates’ Sovereign Right of Reason Clearly mind deceived sense’s strife Invincible perfection be God’s season Thus, our key to knowledge ever rife Priests who find this, absolute treason No church or Socratic school A barefoot man roamed to teach Socrates mocked for looking a fool His speech not one to simply preach Plato witnesses a martyr’s drool Cruel hemlock, words did so breach Handsome aristocratic youth Plato Followed Socrates’ Eternal Wisdom But soon to find his own credo In Medara to find Euclid and freedom Egyptian geometry to provide dado To Plato life, expression; not a system Eternally an artist, Plato did develop Philosophic circle in Academus groves Bring Athens, world knowledge envelop Discretions of sensations, be not oaths What man may be, an animal jealous Plato’s allegorical cave found in droves As Plato once be Socrates’ disciple So too, to Plato would Aristotle be Passing comprehension archetypal Successions of genius’ visions do see Aristotle taking it step further, as vital To science of hands-on discovery And this is where we see a parting Of two distinctly opposing philosophies Plato being at odds, with science starting Aristotle’s truth, finding no apologies Things not happening by chance imparting Frivolity of duopoly, dichotomy to Socrates But a new era has surely now dawned Science exploring an invisible atom And the seen and unseen correspond So to Aristotle’s, Plato’s, Socrates’ datum Brilliant new philosophies have spawned An abstract notion of conceived stratum
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54
when i pass by the lake, i have to stop and stare how magnificent is it that such a beautiful body of water is just sitting right there? whether I'm shopping in Chicago or hiking in Manistique, lake michigan is my horizon, its depth is my peak. i see every shade of blue there has ever been and will be, i see white caps, forming patterns at the surface. i wonder what fish are swimming below my feet. i long to swim in it; to experience it’s vastness; to feel it’s chill envelop my bones and to feel its warmth guide me back home. my thoughts are clouded with the lake and i see it in my dreams. i think of its wide open rivers and its tiny little streams. i wish to be near it, to wake up to its song every day, but when i rise in the morning, i’m reminded that i am far away. when you pass by the lake, you simply don’t stare, such a magnificent body of water; do you know that it’s there? if you were in Chicago, would it still be the same? if you stood in Manistique, would you care that you came? when you look at the lake, do you see all the blue? or is every single ripple the same color to you? do you think about fish, or wish to go for a swim, or will you stay inside and say “i’ve already been in”. have you drove by too many times that its escaped from your dreams, do you find its rivers boring; “it’s not what it seems”. you’ve seen it all your life, it’s as plain as a tree is the way you ignore such a beautiful lake, the way you one day will see me?
0
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 11:43 PM UTC
lake michigan (part I)
when i pass by the lake, i have to stop and stare how magnificent is it that such a beautiful body of water is just sitting right there? whether I'm shopping in Chicago or hiking in Manistique, lake michigan is my horizon, its depth is my peak. i see every shade of blue there has ever been and will be, i see white caps, forming patterns at the surface. i wonder what fish are swimming below my feet. i long to swim in it; to experience it’s vastness; to feel it’s chill envelop my bones and to feel its warmth guide me back home. my thoughts are clouded with the lake and i see it in my dreams. i think of its wide open rivers and its tiny little streams. i wish to be near it, to wake up to its song every day, but when i rise in the morning, i’m reminded that i am far away. when you pass by the lake, you simply don’t stare, such a magnificent body of water; do you know that it’s there? if you were in Chicago, would it still be the same? if you stood in Manistique, would you care that you came? when you look at the lake, do you see all the blue? or is every single ripple the same color to you? do you think about fish, or wish to go for a swim, or will you stay inside and say “i’ve already been in”. have you drove by too many times that its escaped from your dreams, do you find its rivers boring; “it’s not what it seems”. you’ve seen it all your life, it’s as plain as a tree is the way you ignore such a beautiful lake, the way you one day will see me?
Continue reading...
30
My bedsheets envelop me with the familiar scent of home as I lie comforted in their warm embrace. Outside my window, crows call from maple trees their leaves tipped in gold and ochre, while raven visitors welcome me. Sprinkled with bits of bleached sand, my dashboard is a daily reminder of my my beach-time walkabouts where I kept my hopes and dreams. My tropical adventure, now just a memory in snapshots lies packed away with shells and other mementos, as I embrace tomorrow. Summer's sultry days with their myriad of challenges, have molded me into the woman I am, and who I will become.
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Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 9:04 PM UTC
OH, TO BE HOME!
When she touches me, I feel her touching Herself, though she circles my shape into Oneness, I sometimes feel— detached Within those arms.                                      In her startled-fall To sleep, imperceptibly, she gathers The room from her haunting childhood.   Drawing the air and curling in waves— Her hair, as if she were weaving some kind Of shelter. When I touch her, it is with desire. My reach untangles the very dream Which took thirty five years of dull Existence to unmuddle— to imagine, My soul's other.                          Ten fingers envelop her body Like splits of lightning— rippling skyward From wholly, bone-dun-desert, floor and there, In that rose-journey of unbridled touch, The shock of thunder makes a mother Of the sky.                        When she breaks her water The blighted earth that was sung— given My name, becomes her light, awakening Child.
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Jun 2, 2012
Jun 2, 2012 at 10:57 AM UTC
Touch