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Prathipa Nair Oct 2016
Ready for the wedding in her black attic
Wearing necklace of twinkling stars
Alluring bindi of shinning moon
Her blue wide eyes open with delight
Giggling of coyness from her lips of rivers
Plaited braids with fragrant ***** pine flowers
Night, walking languidly on green carpets
Getting on brown forests of chariot
Passing through villages, cities, towns
Ululation of owl's high-pitched wavering
Welcoming her to the ceremony !
Katie Jan 2014
i lost your direction
with my back against you i begged you
to unzip the sky

i was parched without shade
you looked like destiny
a mirage in a thirsty throat

i kissed the ground and broke my mouth
spit teeth that bled your name
but you came no closer

the pain was not divine
perception rose in red welts around my lips
mountains of flesh that held no beauty

i poured myself into this strange espousal of a world
cold cloudy glass
forever rounding walls
that held me in smeared thumbprints

on a hot day i am static
i dry slowly, paint
i am the ever madonna the lost woman
heroine heroine heroine
corrupt word that bursts like an aneurysm on the tongue
spreads like a warm solution

and we bred closer
fixing flesh on the bones of our connection
meet me when i come to you
don’t grow old with me
i can never change

the leash nerves held
keeping you that same size
until the sky seized with the threat
rain rain rain
and i was no prophet
just a woman you thought you could save
if your feet could make the steps

but i am not lost
i’m just waiting for you
you can find me under broken clouds
you can save me to soothe
your own self
dancing jewels of deflowered dawns,
how can I place your kiss into the tissues of my moaning soul?
the altar of your divine touch breaks the bounds of human intellect, kiss me at once and I shall break the dough of Heaven into a thousand brooks of boons,
furl the ribbon of honey light around my groaning kiss of life.
Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2012
Limbo

Black hole quasar pulsar star meridians oblique oracle messages from beyond the lost between the bureau of the forgotten
Dreams images disjointed some admirably projected on the screen of the mind they tell you a mystery where is the key
Like being in a library books everywhere any subject any topic whatever your taste or fancy but without retrieval how rotten
Space fascinates holds men enthralled the searching of the cosmos the whole of life it has consumed the overly curious

What I’m talking about is if you could take a meteor shower put it in a black velvet bag capture true magic hold for your disposal
Take droplets of rain speak to them and they would obey your voice become for one hour that which you desire most from life
Find the passage to the center of the mountain a gapping cave where a true oracle is beheld divine utterance her real espousal
You take knowledge long hidden disperse it among the most troubled and confused and aura breaks and arches those of need

Life’s dilemmas and contrasts these intangible twisted knotted fields of gloom you touch bows unknown understanding blooms
Course contrary buffeted by unpleasant wind oh to know how to rescind make rays of hope grow in resplendent rows
The common coal fired and pressured over millennia does purist light ignite the mind soul and heart in excitement it consumes
Striation found in the cold glacier this natural marking take from it learn the soul has divine grooves that only play spiritual tunes

This might sound farfetched but one day it will be the norm for Gods family the unexpected the unbelievable your daily life
Now we are in neutral or the drive is mostly in the natural like you build the best house then someone sticks up an eye sore
There is the contrast the conflict your spiritual house shines then your enemy self wrecks and devalues ruination rife
The spirit oracle revealed that the devil wants you as a trophy in a case how nice God wants you but he wants you as family
Andie Oct 2017
Deep perfume seeps still from the fallen rose Down down endlessly  
filling the air with all that is pure, and soon all that is not    
diamonds glisten upon its skin Sparkling in the summer heat, he  
knows this won't be the end

moisture condenses around his roots, the tree growing up into  
heaven, life surging around him, springing, growing, ripping  
through the thick and crusted earth. Pun i ca gra na tum is such a complex word for what here has come to pass. the roots shooting     down and spreading, their mirrors filling the sky, soaking up our  
shining beams of phantasmal brilliance.

Only those loved have names wouldn't you Agree some are special 
to the producing world, and Others are left to rot, take the fruit of a morning lily, no one loves her, yet she bears all the same

something stirs within his being, some new body grows out from  
inside, some new some new some new something new. The sky fills
with blood espousal carillon, their pods filling rich and new,  
chiming out for all to hear the dawn rising, the birds flying, yes,
hear them fly above as you watch their song paint the sky in cool
purples and blues.

Color is so trite and love is so outdated and there are those who
wish for the end of the world as well Creation falling to the Ground
as the rosebud does in winter

united in final ecstasy, the bells descend as dying mistrals unveil
our sinking crown, sound-bow dripping away
For him
Jim Kleinhenz Jan 2012
The brides have passed all of the sentence tests
that Polyhymnia wanted. She asked
them to teach us how the earth became
a sullen crib. She thought the brides should sing
of nightmares and miracles, not freedoms.
If we have come to know our strengths, she said,
then perhaps we have come to love our failures
too much. Write it. This is a test.

If Polyhymnia, then nothing is transitory,
just the vast ebbing out of what always flows away.

As Polyhymnia is, there is no sentence here,
just the quiet susurration in her lips.      

Of Polyhymnia, her stone lips breathe silence,
for espousal has always been a poem to awake to.

For ancient, aimless, almost airless Polyhymnia,
the courtier of our language,

the world is made up for us. Always.


© Jim Kleinhenz
brandon nagley Aug 2015
A lithe monarch
In the willowy meadow;
Ourn phalanxes sutured
As seducer's of plush marshmallow pillow's.

Avow I shalt, one's high name
I'll be burned for her safety;
Taking her grazing
Drying her in the rain.

Anon her hand, to be on mine wrist
Apostle's of kinship, succulent wish;
None Asp's to swallow in, forgiveness of sin
Assenting in espousal, one letting me in.

To beget her, to giveth her a simper
beggarly I am, as beseeching get's bigger;
Since I'm losing all hope, placeth me on the bier
Moveth mine carrion, into the flame of tear's..



©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
Just good writing for noone
Maaya Dev Sep 2015
Shadows of agonies
blunt and frozen
in icy-memories
Espousal’s the dusk
not to bewail of sunflowers falling
rather a celebration of blooming of water lilies
upon the dawn of moon
to kiss infinite stars on the sky.

You may write it down in the history
as some bohemian’s rhapsody.
Oh oh! Thy fellow being
It’s not just, just prosody
It’s the Buddha Poornima
Day of emancipation from all illusions
Beacon of enlightenment
Under the Bodhi tree
When the young Siddhartha
Was deeply moved
After seeing the four passing sights
It’s the concept of acquiescence
to unfold the truth, to unwrap life
of living a moment fully.

Letting go is the divine flow
Of the rivulet called life
For go ego, jealousy, hatred and all sufferings
Nurture and nourish the saplings and seeds
Of love, peace and joy.
Letting go means to be chivalry
With time, nature and with all beings
to flow with the flow simply
like a serene brook in its own rhythm.
Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2021
The words came as gifts
from the land of proposal,
a voice of enchantment heard far, far, away
Wrapped in the promise
of a better tomorrow,
new bows made of letters untie and defray
Although undeserved but never unwanted,
in the vanishing darkness
feelings pledge with the dawn
As thoughts await marriage, the silence has ended,
a committed engagement
—betrothed in a song

(Rosemont Pennsylvania: March, 2021)
brandon nagley Jun 2015
She's mine
Home
Abode
Crib
Den
Condo
Beau
View
Co-op
Castle top
Mansion
Shack of love
Flying dove
Angelic being
Diety queen
Fashion dream
Everything
Espousal ring
King and queen
I dont want to her leave
For I needeth mine soul
Just tout me openly
Grace me temptingly
Embrace me charmingly
Not being afraid to show affections
Thou art mine home
Thou art mine only
Direction
Whilst I weep
I wonder?
When wilt she go all in
Mine amour?
Mine queen?
Mine passion
Mine all
Mine dream
Mine only
I guess I must wait,
Than wait I wilt

This vessels bloods spilt!!!
littlebrush Mar 2016
It's as if You slid a silk sheet over my chest,
or placed Your big palm over my hunched back;
or kissed my knees after their knelt espousal.
Monisha Jul 2019
Oftentimes, sometimes, many times

I search through
all the words I know
And there are many a few.

I rift, I raft
I sift, and cart
I search, and submerge  
Pondering over each one’s  usability and suitability.

Trying to find one,
the right one,
the tight one,
the oh so alight one.

Terse, specific, concise and precise,  
perfect, quintessential, robust,
mellow, complete, that cuts through the ice.  

Not squandered or meandered,
Jaywalking through,
lost or philandered.

That’s so true a vision,
captures my emotion,
Visions an  illumination
Offers description
Catalyses reflection
Provides  perspective,
Inspires action,
Or are just so perfect in their conception.

Then some are there, a little broken, sound woebegone and weatherbeaten
Through a life well lived, they are rooted if slightly moth eaten.
They wear history and tell many a tale,
Just their espousal sets you to sail.

My favourite ones are a  beacon of hope, encouragement, love and touch you to the core,
A ****** of laughter, a pirouette of flirtation, a wordful gaze, touching the heart, stimulating the mind, soul searching, words words words, those ones I love so.

Then some scare me to fumble, tumble and kazoomble freakishly so,
My pupils dilated, my breathing short, dark, dismal and morbid, less of them is more.

Some are just there, need to be,
alone they are nothing, combined they provide the  key,
They coexist happy in their role in the larger plan.
Is it you, or is it me,
Ah those words...

but sometimes, just sometimes
Words just are not enough,
They are just not enough to get anything said,
Then all  I can say is
Nothing!
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2017
To recite it in a Poem,
  or sing it loud and strong

Their union an espousal,
  one by measure, one by song

Division casts adrift,
  as muted sirens fold their wings

This moment reinvented,
—words and melody one thing

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Dr Peter Lim Aug 2020
Dear ...


Yours is a post PhD thesis and sets us thinking about what life is but definitions are relative and subjective as philosophy and morality is not science--more by way of speculation and hypothesising.  Truth is sui generis--we de-sanctify it by claiming we know it but it stands askance.

I would look at life in awe and in recognition of the limits of my own understanding, also in acknowledgement of my lack of maturity and perspicacity ---I shall not pre-empt bur rather live a day at a time-if lucky enough, I might learn to know a bit, just a tiny bit more ,of myself and my relation to life.


I do not need to have an answer to life's mysteries, complexities, nuances or its contradictions as my happiness and wellbeing does not rest on knowledge--I would deem myself lucky to have some oblique insight--to be able to see a moment in its intrinsic state  is quite enough--though it is not enlightenment, a new consciousness would have dawned upon me as what was reflected by Blake in his AUGURIES OF INNOCENCE.  

Whether life has meaning or not is definable only by personal experience, stripped of external influences or the ranting of writers and philosophers---it is the perennial 'I' and 'Life' that is the crux.

Existentialism is but a lonely and isolated way of looking at life and might be better suited for Western thinking in its vague and dubious search for answers to living unlike the Eastern which seeks to live in harmony with the self and the universe. As such, the West is Yang and the Eastern, Yin--the former involves struggle of the self, the latter is strife-free in its benign acceptance, acquiesce, humility, compassion and subjugation of the ego and not over-doing or over-achieving. That the West is bending more and more towards Zen, Taoism and Buddhism clearly shows a sharp shifting of thinking in espousal of Eastern wisdom.

Love is more real than life as it impinges upon me in my relation to those whom I love and also in my knowing I am loved in return.
It is not an abstraction like life or truth.  

What shall save me at the end is not understanding nor knowledge
but rather in recognising I am but a ripple in the limitless vastness of the sea of life and my acceptance of such.

Do I make sense, dear Master?

My IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF ZEN--THE PATH TO A CALMER AND HAPPIER LIFE (published by Brolga Publishing, Melbourne) is on sale in 14 countries under Lim--  for rating vide Lim Sing AbeBooks, et al.
It mentions, inter alia,  existentialism, Camus and Sartre

with my deep esteem.
David Hilburn Jan 22
Ask me when the tune is in order
Simple, mutual and narcissistically pronounced
Pouts we saved, become a rule of thumb
Voices to remember you, a host of inclination, found?

Intuition found your shoe...
Bared and staring at the name of infinite share
We collect a need to us, like the song we woo
The blessing of another muse, is only where...?

Places and faces of direction, an estimate
Of since, we are the clarity of espousal
Sight unseen, the question of vice, has come irate?
Is anger to term the naked, the future of valediction?

A band with hands on the other side
Of commencement, to wish in unseemly did
The character we approve, is but a decisive flight
Of fancy, that has the stone of heed, for a friend

Honor among thieves, or adage of a copping plea?
The tooth we sought, for a dalliance that has the tears
A bird of paradise, that calmly advances on the sake, seen
And heard, with a repose that ventures far, as you near...
Was and was not, the times to a furious skip of deliberation, a funky hat?
David Hilburn Jan 11
Lions of worth
Sheer actual and letting a moon...
Save this last dance for danger
Creation and beckoning silence, come too soon

Throne of sense, a dissuading knot
Persuaded to live in the opus, the chastity
Of courtesy's phantom, a wisdom caught
A wisdom capable of the roses of vanity...

Vantage one (soliloquy)
Threats of privilege, share the land
Sour or dour, the notion to quell, is heed
Stricken with the mores of wishes, the tongue to wonder

Vantage two (espousal)
Worlds of visit, vicinity, and vagueness
Together for a question, in the form of wealth
We see your tomorrow, for today in a mirrors bless...

Vantage three (fulfilment)
Sweeter as us, than you have a right to be
The tongue of vice, a victory of spirits, and solace or lament
Has the voice of harmony, like the very light we seem to eat

Vantage four (escapism)
The terror of repose, that has been divined
Sovereign to forces, with a greater eye, than the silence of despotism
Has reached the known, the curiosity of a simple sigh...

Sign's of the times
Hatred is our reward, no fool without a yesterday
That has, become a terror with us, the saviors of lives
With a solitude we offer is confusion, and the mercy of angels, which may...
When kings place a ray of sunshine in your hair, flowers die...
Chapter III
The Roosters crow in Persepolis

His disloyal mortals came from 70 km from the Iranian city of Shiraz, Fars province, near the place where the Pulwar river flows into the Kur (Kyrus). Its construction and destruction would be provinces that will be submitted until the conquest of the Persian Empire submitted in October by Alexander the Great. Persepolis was converted into harem rooms and bizarre magnet *** between slaughtered Gods. The transitions from the porticos to the sides are joined by angular towers in the Apadana of profane knots. The two great doors remained open for eternity, moaning salts of endless assets of predefinition and recharge in their ill-fated destiny.

Here were Vernarth's comrades groggy with preparations and attire from the slabs of Mars upon their shoulders, after tempests of oracles from the scorching sun on their heads. Anahita; goddess of nature, pouring out the blessed waters of nature that washed with morbid rains the bodies of those who died in the cheating battles with the roosters of Zoroaster, slicing the palanquin where he sat enraptured in polytheism Ahura Mazda almost like a cloister and hat, ad portas to wear the monarchical robes of Macedonia, before his kingdom defeated by the subjugated constitution of golden blood of Alexander and Vernarth linked to his Macedon or Zeus, fully Hellenic that ran the vast paths strolled by its reefs of muted streets, of basaltic cobbled stones and obsidians between vintage havens and fans. Accurately to reside later in the house of Hera and its windmills, of the fertile blood of the Aegean and death, or a narcotic poppy capsule, for matchmakers in the mills of the south pole of Tel Gomel, as a new foundation of their new lands for Hellenic Macedonia and the matriarchy of Hera.

In Tel Gómel vertical hope, fraternal Alikanto in addition to Beelzebub, were encouraged to leave towards a rough road of the encounter in the stormy and cloudy morning, even of discouragement and morality were alone in the footsteps. From Persepolis, once sacred, in great splendid rows, the calm of the Cosmos could be seen disturbing, of how the earth sowed the rigor of reign to delimit the overwhelming Fold of the Macedonian.
She stood ***** over the fire warming her mitts and shields, she thinks of her beloved wife Valkerina, and sets out to ride her steed that shook her head disconcertingly from so much cross rein on her long way to Gaugamela. After mowing down so much grass and chewing dream poetry, he thought about his beloved Valkerina, how he would wait one day to be together with the windows open, and then to be with the doors closed. From upstairs to the mandrake at night after drinking Convital wine, setting fire and cooking, talking until the greeting is mistaken for a sunrise with deep feng shui disorder. And from the magenta drunk night the constellation of Orion with the image of the candlestick that rests in its angular and calloused hands. Valkerina did not demarcate to stop incense spaces for her Hellenic warrior, go to her offensive in a fair fight.

As Persepolis comprises an enormous palatial complex on a monumental terrace that supports multiple buildings that had precise protocol, ritual, emblematic or administrative functions: audiences, royal apartments, treasure administration or reception, Valkerina always assisted the wounded of great confrontations. Near the terrace were other elements: royal tombs, altars, and gardens where she lay in the afternoons near the base of the graves of her cremated ancestors at the expense of the vultures' claws gargling acid. There were also the houses of the lower city, of which almost nothing visible to any visiting eye left today. Many bas-reliefs carved on the steps and doors of the palace represent the diversity of the peoples that made up the empire. Others consecrate the image of a real protective power, sovereign, legitimate and absolute, where Xerxes is designated as the legitimate successor of Darius the Great. The multiple royal inscriptions in cuneiform script of Persepolis are drawn in Old Persian, Babylonian, or Elamite. They are recorded in various places on the site, intended for the same purposes and specify which kings ordered the removal of the buildings. Especially in the arms of the ****** of Alikanto that run almost inciting to leave from where they should be, as an anti tatoo, enemies of their own being of the true protective gods.

Only 52 kilometers away, in the surroundings of Nurruguma that could be identified as Gaugamela, from the Neolithic to the present Ottoman period to the present day. Since then, so many lines of numbers of attendees could not be seen with their legitimate blessings and indulgences for this great event of warlike promise. Vernath on Alikanto,  as a single rider facing the horizon. He rode awake when his horse galloped; he rode asleep when his horse walked slowly. With only one eye open when the sand wind hit his face and his great War Animal presence until this great feat that is his regression session of man in several lives incarnated from the current periods until 352 years B.C.

Before reaching the neighborhood of Alejandro Magnus, you have to go through 36 oases where you will be attended by odalisque angels. They will place the energy probes of Macedonia of the immortal lineage of Macedonia, with extensive alchemical probes of the Bumodos River, on the front of his breastplate, to assist him in the conflagration of his existence placed at the great risk of being degraded by some arrow with poisonous of sudden physical death.
The great celestial umbrellas were opened with their straps on their backs, their arch stretched by Hera when I consecrated his espousal to Valekiria in the pilgrimages of Saint Corinth with its substantiated liturgical Doric columns, of which cycles, characters and before the recipe of poets are mentioned tragic, alluding to Theban cycles in the presence of Oedipus to Corinth son of Zeus.
Alikanto comes from the Blood of Horses of the Cordillera of harsh winters in the transverse valleys where the Amazon Luccica; her mother fed the herds of hazelnut and oatmeal lace to the herds of Chilean Thoroughbred Horses. Alikanto means "Fire Hoof". Its ceremonial premise is the back room, before leaving the ritual of insulting Judas in Lenten periods and preparing trips with resinous black flour, Patagua tea, bacon and two sentries with winchester on the massive cord to the adventure sands in Horcondising. He had wide legs with fever and his elbows were like ratchets to cut through the masked enemy grievances. On his forehead is the sphinx of the Mandragora; species of florae anthropomorphic irregular pom-pom, which every year took him from his head and took him through the black forests to shout howls of new lives to save eternal glories of endless agonies by the nine moons of Sudpichi, raining lagoons on the back of their embraced ancestors.
His namesake Beelzebub means "The Lord of the Flies because in the sacrifices the meat was left to rot until it covered itself." He is, among other things, the lord of darkness, the unmentionable, the very demon of the Philistines Beelzebub!! ... Its name means in Greek Ox head, nickname that the animal apparently received for the rounded appearance of its dolichocephalism face and the considerable width of its forehead, where a white spot in the shape of a pineal star also shone.

To be continued… / under edition
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2019
To recite it in a Poem,
or sing it loud and strong

Their union an espousal,
one by measure, one by song

Division cast adrift,
muted sirens fold their wings

This moment reinvented
—words and melody one thing

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

— The End —