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Jhoerina Honrado Aug 2015
My unending thoughts
are like quicksand
that consume me entirely

Perhaps this is the
very condition of existence
to feel the bizarre
nature of being a human

That not all stars
can be fathomed into constellations

Everything I once knew has been stilled:

I fathomed my mother’s voice whispering
In my juvenescence,
She weaved a tapestry of tales
Whilst her pearlescent eyes
They glistened,
Enveloped by downy lashes
Ebony and yet unassuming
The night domineered.
Unblemished enough to
Garner the praise
In the clarity of
My reverential heart,
As I lay there
Tucked in,
Once peacefully,
Yet now shaken
The disquietude
Of the restless twilight,
Upon an azure king-sized mattress
Primped in creaseless Space Jam sheets.

They were set by
The grace of her manicured hands
However slightly,
Chestnut and replete
That longed to,
By the Blessed Oracle
Speaking with a God,
Summon the Salvation
Of my long lost rest
That Raged Leviathan
To be cocooned in The Sea of Shadows
The thew of dreams would be born.

She sanctified my fears
Like coal oppressed for aeons
That Treasured Sphere
(Terraqueous Gaia)
Until by
The Womb of the Mountainous Mother,
Were reborn
As the Children of Diamonds.

Or perhaps
Like a baptismal kiss
That floweth from an ivory chalice
By which
The soil of my life flowered,
For a quaked youth was
With a fading taste
Of the transcendence at dawn
Poured upon my palate
The Garden of the Valiant
Bursted into bloom.
(Tis where the Behemoth lay nestled
Under the Age Old Tree of Life
And Sylphs soar beneath iridescent twilit skies
Illuminated by Providence
Of the Half-Faced Crimson Moon).

If I so chose
I could
Be anything
I imagined, even

Ephemeral though
Those moments were
My reminiscence
Doth memorialize in crystal stasis
My infantile longing,
Tis ceaseless in its yearning
To be comforted
Pangs overtake me:

But what fable is my weapon
The Hallowed Excalibur,
Or perhaps even The Ultima Weapon
With the Impenetrable Aegis
Imparted by
The Mighty Crystal
Bestowing might to its Anointed
The ones who war with their own iniquity,
Until their paths align
Like celestial bodies
And they’ve arisen triumphant,
Eclipsed the fictitious light
Of a false deity
Who besmirched the truths
That upheld The Cosmos
Since its genesis?

There is one tale,
(Lean in, listen closely,
This is my Susurrus in the Night)
Tis no figment
And one I found most favorable,
One of a man
And high over all but
The Desideratum of the Holy,
The one to whom
Even the angels, seraphs, and cherubs bow.

He was scourged
In flesh and spirit
Till his pulse was silenced,
His inestimable blood
Prophesied to vanquish
Chaos and
The Futile Wind
Of life
That by
By the disobedience of
Tarnished Father,
Is now
An accursed child

Is effaced by
(For Sorrow has no end)
Tormented by Space.
And depth,
O that Existential Fabric)
His caverns
Condemned Her

The thought of solitude
Looming in mortality
Were the dreadful horns
Of an Auroch that
Her consciousness
Until by
Proud Oppression
In its frailty
Was a dandelion
Strewn by skinless hands
Against the immaterial
Brush of the breeze.

To flourish then
Wax and
Was a fate
That our God intended.
For eternity shines and
Is a supernova
In the galaxy of our hearts
And though undiscerned
By many
Has always been
Will always be
The Cherished Wish of the Stars,
For though we are an exhalation
By contradistinction,
Even they become nebulous
Fading into dust.

We shall
Exalted and ennobled
Even to these who are
Of the luminaries,
Brothers and sisters
Without Ears,
Or minds.

(These vibrations resonate from the Cosmo-Plexus of Love)
Soon enough they say,
Soon enough.
Hey guys, this poem is written as a thematic embodiment of a religious-based autobiographical piece I am in the process of assembling (It will be a metaphorical interlude if you will in between two segments of the piece and thus act as a segue). It was written as a free-verse piece. I have not written in about a month which has given me time to reflect and introspectively examine the Universe around me; consequently, I hope that you guys can perceive my metamorphosis in my month long cocooning as a writer. I wanted to encapsulate the whimsicality, fancifulness, and innocence of youth by incorporating myth, imagery, and imagination (almost reminiscent of a fairy-tale whispered to a child before bed, hence the title "A Susurrus in the Night"). I kind of rushed putting this out because I was so eager to share with you guys, so forgive me if it's not as refined as my usual writings. *Since posting I have edited it on this website* I this does not convolute and thus make it less understandable! I have so much to say through this piece! Thank you so much for your support and God bless!
―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
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
Omnipresent Mist:
The Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love

―Echo forth comrades―

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

II. Tempus Fugit

The Promise
Of the
Is nigh:

The Yesteryears
Distant Ages,
Archean Aeons;

(Eventuality of Existence)

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

III. Nova Cosmogony

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

Only the Sapient of Sages
Doth denude:

The Incorporeal Incarnation
Virtue, it’s vesture,

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

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

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

V. The Temporal Hither:

Her Genesis
Vestal Vicissitudes:

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

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

Chars the Canvas
Of Ethereal Skies,
Moonlit, Martyred Mind’s Sky;
The Eve’s Imperator
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,
The breadth)
The Empyrean One
Enshrined in Pantheon
Our Virginal, Vestal Souls
Efflorescent Eternity
In our hearts?
(Ecclesiastes 3:11)

Time is fickle
Hydrean Leviathan:

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

Be roused
Unto her
Perpetuity of
Aqueous Abyssal, Dream Deep Sea;

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

∞ Eternally, ∞
∞ Reincarnated; ∞

∞The Cosmic Spectrum∞
∞Is Infinite∞

∞Excelsior, Godspeed∞

∞ Elo’him ∞

VII. Ultima Thule:

Empyrean souls,
Doth abide
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
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,

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:
The Peaks of Heartsease.
Commune with the Cosmos,
Salvera y Jiustizia
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,

(May you
The Virtues of the Lord)


(The [Your] Living Soul)


(The World)

The Apotheosis of the Astral Flame
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
Nnaemeka Mokeme Oct 2018
Things unspeakable,
like a river meandering,
surge in my soul,
calls out to me,
inspires my mind with
intriguing force.
Afflatus of the cosmic  
impressed with love
enough to be true
caressed my whole
being with power
to dare to do
the impossible.
This impression of
what is inside
my being cannot
be fathomed.
The beauty of the
spirit engulfed
my soul.
Nurtured by grace
and infinite power,
emboldened by
the influence
of love divine to
heal the afflicted.
And now I possessed
the dynamic incredible
unction to influence
and affect my world.
All these are possible
because of grace.
More grace has
been given to excel.
Be thankful and receive it.
Rejoice and be grateful for
the glorious treasures available.
When grace speaks
qualifications dies.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
her Sep 10
I sit in my room and turn off the lights.
Windows draped with black out curtains.
My eyes are wide open, but it doesn’t make a difference.
It’s the same color as when they’re closed.
Most people like their canvases to be white..
But I draw better in the dark.
I speak and let the words surround me until I can see them
I allow them to join together in holy matrimony,
I listen to them say their vows to one another, pledging the sweetest allegiance to themselves
They conceive pictures that I could have never fathomed
Paintings I could never draw
I watch them dance all around me
So vibrant
I want to touch them, but I let them be  instead
I can’t believe they once lived inside of me
This is love
This is existence
This is creation
I am Mother Nature.
DivineDao Jun 15

*One Day The chimes were Singing
Oh, How I have wished That I could
Possess All Of your knowledge and Thou Wit - - Thou Witest Extrapolations Upon This
MagikalExplorer's Quest
Forever I would long'd he'd knew
The ultimus and primely Trodden TreausuredRason d' etre - - to wich We both abide so meek;and bow:
To Classics, Music, Art, PhilosophyuslllGalore
For Music was, it IS and Will be eternally derived from This illusion ...

Absorbed within Thou Ticking Times-Those Tempus Fugit Temperament sets, The Rhythm's sequences and silent pauses resonating--reeled,
Within us
heavens zest
That I've not
Portrude and be free of woe
Abolishing this Angst
Of ForeingFretful
Dreams Slowly
By me as snowd desires
Flames Flickering Through Tender
Storms and Tribulations
Among My Harboured Chest
Like peaches cream, Thy silky cheeks
Are mine
To Glare and Gaze

Know That'
I'd shy'd Thou n Mine Beaux
Away if I were to be longed
By yer sincere ambrosialy Divine
When I were  Thrusted within Thou
Deepest Lakes
When We were  At Thy Place
So Love me Love - - As  I were fathomed not By Fate - so said
Through ethered Air
To love and Touch and  Bind her  Active Tendernesess Special Presence
The Wholehearted Galaxy She means
When She utters lovely Commonalities ... For Thou~Love Thou Fresh - - ThySelf ...
Actively.Awaits for her Bijoux
Hello Poetry
DivineDao Poems
Of Love, Togetherness Fulfilment and Longing
Reverence of LOVE, Love, love
Sarah Mar 26
Sometimes I feel as if I am trapped on the wrong side of the glass
Creating the hope of close friendship to be impossible
A thought to not be fathomed
I see you
but all you see is a woman
standing behind the glass
I wish I could break the barrier
The inevitable barrier between myself and the ability to be truly known
I, just an image to look at but never to be touched
Never to be spoken with
It seems as if there is a warning sign
Danger: Do not get close to the woman behind the glass.
Mark Aug 2018
Routinely lark, though this day depth therein
bemused as why the warbling fluter turned
instilled and sung laments, residing within
and perched unkind; that brittler branches - spurned.

Melodic angst has never sprung so dim
and tunes of fathomed trebles; parted love?
Perchance the ballad pours a swansong hymn;
and from aloft the skies - returns a dove.

If song an' bird be taken dazed with stars
beliefs contort and bowing strings apart
nor stealth be known as fervent dwells the scars,
though bleak the lust for any other heart.

O' feathered, pennate cherub play her whim!
Remain upon the sill and bygones swim.
barely breathing
they tell me to stop screaming
am i thinking out loud

don't trust what i'm seeing
terrified with all of my being
to ever let it out

reel it back in
before my song traps them
a siren is cursed to be alone

i knew it would happen
just never fathomed
the way the sadness would leaden my bones

making it harder to leave
each time they trust me
though i know very well

i'm not what they need
with my deadly melodies
i just hate to be by myself
Dante Leto Nov 5
The quiet whispers taunt me.
In the night beneath the umbral waves
The humble haze still haunts me.
Through daunting ways these gauntly wraiths
Yet flaunt the ways they wont me
To nightly pangs of hunger,
Reins, and tormenting unending.
Belike the blaze of spectral flames
Will burn my soul as kindling
Til naught remains but rotted frames;
To this my will is dwindling.

The ghastly echoes call me.
From my slumber come the rumbling of
A hunger that befalls me.
Amidst the stomach grumbling come the
Numbing screams, appalling
Dreams, they seem to plead with me,
Indeed, beseech me, drawling
In tongues unknown to me. Their bleat
Is strangely so familiar.
But one would tone above the rest
That said: "Behold! A killer!"

Aloud phantasms sing
Their eerie verses full of curses.
Terse, yet maddening.
Severe at first, yes, but the worst,
Perverse, the last conceived
Verse that's heard as they rehearse
Coerce a lasting bleed
From eyes and ears and nose. Behold
Those bursts of plasm brings
The fiends that thirst as they traverse
Headfirst through fathomed greed.

My bonds begin to break.
As all these raunchy melodies
Beset me, here I shake.
Conniptions, fits, and predilection
Of sadistic traits.
No longer can they be restrained,
The bloodlust must be slaked.
Among the graves of wanton slaves
Where staunch stench radiates
I wake to see nightmarish scenes
So garishly ornate.

Hailed by an astral choir.
Their incantations of damnation
Hasten my desire
To sever, ****, obliterate,
And purge through blood and fire
The filth, the waste, that permeates
This place that earns my ire.
A desecrated wretch, her fated
Death be made entire.
Raze her face with razor blades,
Exsaguinate the liar.

The blood moon's macabre glow
Bids me to forbidden deeds
And beckons me below.
A severed head and crimson red
Flora form a show
With shredded flesh. Lecherousness
This foetid mess invokes.
I taste the blood...Oh, what a rush!
By lust I feel possessed!
The litanies have conjured me
To binge on blood and death.
living up to it is bringing me down.
so much life grieving out loud
and all the glorious tundra of genius
wrecking my toes. I misstep…
to a point… I never fathomed.


I have long lungs and short breaths.
I come undone effortless.
I do what must be done
regardless…. and soldier on.
but to the sticking place,
i am gargantuan,
but a clumsy fool
with a fancy


something in Me has died a lot.
i must Live more
to love as much
and when you can’t…
you rot.

you sleep where things have no love.
you weep where things have no eyes.
you are sincere
where a sun is a fist.
and you fight
for not so much.
but you Live


love is the wonderful thing that keeps you alive.
and Alive is the  terrible thing that keeps you
BLVNK Apr 29
(Thoughts) While Riding High

I just love sounds of trains at night pillowing my ear drums with screeching sounds of metal clashing against itself as it sores through its alleys.,
Focused on one main goal.,
getting to it’s destinations.,
Yes., I’m thinking too much,
Perhaps I’ve been missed lead by my judgements.,
(Thoughts) While Riding High.,
So high that I can feel myself pulsating out of my chest.,
Can’t even search for anything simple.,
Heads racing.,
I’m fathomed by thoughts drifting in and out of comatose consciousness.,
Lol (laugh, or pretend laughter), no that’s too literal.,
I traveled more of a distance in my mind and saw something.,
A glimpse of something that could’ve been.,
These stories that wraps my head infinitely with thoughts so fast unable to interpret a simple comprehension of my own mind.,
I came out with something.,
You know the one thing man all “hopes for”.,
Hoping one day the evolution of man can rise and conquer a again.,
While I listen to the subtle tunes of nature blossoming into a Rose.,
A rose where no matter how pretty and beautiful it is, you’d still have to deal with the most slightest of flaws.........,
Yes the nature of us.,
We built things on earth to let it all rot on top of itself, isn’t that obscure.,
Let me get out of my own annoying thoughts.,
It’s like the mind is built like fireworks that blankets the skies of earth with energy.,
I picture myself owning something.,
And again stop overthinking.,
Owning what, they say?.,
It’s tragic how limited minds can influence millions of innocent lives using them as tokens.,
Telling them what to do or say.,
Instead of just breaking through and living the best lives they could it’s all about control.,

Smt I’ll stop getting worked up, Pt 2 is coming soon I hope everyone enjoyed reading. If you guys have feed back, give me some feed back, I’d love that through and through.
Simon Monahan Nov 2018
A heart, even a human heart,
And yet much more! A blessing key
Which unlocks all the larger part
Of creation's secret, to be
Fathomed in divinest thoughts, where
Love spoke a single Word which could
Not be writ across one sky, there
Being too small for one who would
Speak galaxies of affection,
Spiralling lazily, with ease
Breathing out (O sweet reflection!)
How the Beloved does so please
The unravelling speaker's heart,
Bright orange nebulae signing
Cosmic sighs of love which betray
Deep fondness, and no small pining
For that sweet soul which holds such sway
While comets with hot flashing tails
Remind how fleeting is matter,
Finitude which entirely pales
Before love's endurance. Clatter
Of crashing asteroids beats loud
The steady pulse in silent space
Of devotion's heartbeat, ne'er proud,
Always humbly ready to place
Itself at the disposal of
Her, and her fair name, love of God
Having joined him to her, his dove,
Beside her e'er his path to trod.
And for lightyears of empty black
Void, the silence is unbroken
For love goes beyond the poor track
Of mere words, largely unspoken,
Of course - for even the bright sun
Burns passionately above cloud
And horizon all mute, for one
Who needs not great clamour and loud
Cries to know that her poor lover's
Attention is all caught up in
Her eyes, that beauty which covers
Her whole person, which he would win
Rather by the constellations’
Subtle grandeur than by any
Of the offal of the nations
All dearly sought by so many
(The trappings of riches and fame)
Yet counted all as dust by her
Whose sweet self and whose most fair name
His soul loves. Supernova blur
Smudges the blinking telescopes
Startled by refulgent glory
Of stars which exceed all the hopes
And dreams of poor mortal story,
Fables myriad each like mist
Are dispelled by the diction true
And truly uttered, the whole list
Of fairy tales by a great new
Reality shown inferior
And usurped, as the things of old
Are by these matters interior
Contrasted; proven less well told
Than love’s murmuring, that sweet breath
Of solar wind across the soul’s
Horizon, and the world's. Grave death,
Blistering hell, and those foul coals
Which stoke the infernal fires are
Not enough to overcome it,
The light of its hope shining far,
By which the dark abyss is lit
And made shallow, all things swallowed
By patient seas of affection,
And sadnesses we once wallowed
In escaping our detection,
As we are cast adrift on this
Placid sea. From a stately ship
Above your lover calls, to bliss
Inviting you - that you may strip
Your heart of pain’s devices, set
Sail for past the sunset's glow, while
He takes, if only you will let
Him, your cares away, your sweet smile
The whole repayment expected.
No mere bridge joins our hearts, my love,
But the Cross, which sees connected
Our green earth and heaven above,
As well as our destinies, God's
Call joining in one location
Our twisting paths, against all odds,
Fate through the grace of vocation
Made sweet by His divine favor.
A second heartbeat where once one
Sounded alone now beats, savor
Recognizable in hard-won
Harmonious sound, for no such
Unity is achieved, nor two
Made one, save by labors, by much
Work attentively done; but you,
Of course, darling, serve as reason
Enough to justify hardships
Beyond these, whether in season
Or out your presence amidships
Making every voyage fairer
Than the last, even through the storms,
Instilling courage ‘gainst terror
And all dread, for the lovely forms
Which your love gently expressed takes
Are balm and tonic against all
Ills, honey for the soul which makes
One unafraid that he should fall,
Knowing, as he does, that you will
Be there to succor every woe -
He can his heart’s contents all spill,
And safely, for you love him so.
For Mary Margaret
Nnaemeka Mokeme Oct 2018
You are a unique
and complex
combination masterpiece
of the miraculous.
You are a magic.
You are indeed magical.
Can never be fathomed,
for you were formed,
made out of something
that already exists and
infused with power and
animated with incredible
tremendous abilities so
beautifully woven with
multiple amazing prowess
to impact your world.
Invincible and compact,
wrapped up with so much
complicated conduit wiring
too difficult to comprehend.
In our unfolding like a rose,
we unwrap a deeper unused
part of ourselves not yet
sufficiently known
or discovered.
In our dual nature,
living in a complex universe
as a spiritual being in a
physical body,
inherited the world now
and the world to come,
a world without end,
because we live forever.
As immortal beings,
you cannot die.
You only exit from this
sphere to another realm.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

— The End —