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"flickering" poems
In swirling clouds of silver lace The disk of Luna lies concealed Across the Autumn skies they race Over this shadow realm surreal. On evening shadows now, I gaze A gentle wind swirls through the trees From depths of sleep, I watch half-dazed Thin branches stirring in the breeze. Lights flickering neath mystic skies Through gaps in trees, they shine within Entranced, my mind, I watch surprised This spectral beauty in the wind. In these dark shadows, spirits drift Translucent ghosts and dryads old From this meadow, I sense their gift Strange stories from the wood untold. Oh let me join thy sylvan fest Pale spirits of this Solstice night Before the Moon sets in the west We'll revel neath her misty light.
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Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 12:04 AM UTC
Spirits of the Night
I've seen sunlight in her eyes, a reflection of her soul. So warm, radiant and gentle, but a glance is all I stole. I've seen starlight in her eyes, a reflection of her dreams. Dancing beneath the sea of pearls; mirrored in a serene stream. I've seen firelight in her eyes, a reflection of her lust. The crimson embers flickering; hearts threatening to combust. I've seen moonlight in her eyes, a reflection of her wonder. Thoughtful silent glimpses shared in the silver beams asunder. Yet every moment my memory holds, reflected in earth and skies -- I'd trade them all without hesitation just to be beautiful in her eyes.
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Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 9:31 PM UTC
In Her Eyes
Twenty years in the fast lane, speeding was ecstacy at the time. Sweet heady bubbles of coke, buzzing at feeding. No softeners added, lemon or lime. My therapy, my medication. ****** my mind on a long vacation. Knowing this time would one day arrive. My restless legs, my tired insides. My not so central nervous system, twitching fingers, flickering eyes. This to me is no surprise. My therapy, now my reprise. Peotyr by aKydee.
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Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 12:37 PM UTC
My Chemical Romance.
lights flicker in the distance far far below I’m here looking down on it all wrapped in a blanket a book lies next to me pages flipping themselves in the cool summer breeze inside are the sounds of life outside are the sounds of the questioning the air is filled with random notes fluttering around me like guardian angels I know why they’re here darkness sat down next to me to keep me company we look at the flickering lights in the distance he tells me you’d do fine down there if you wanted to be a light surrounded by light but then he shifts his gaze the moonlight dancing through his being but you’d do great up there be a light where no one has dared to be and with that he left
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Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 11:25 AM UTC
when darkness sat down next to me
Feathers glimmer and shine As though covered in fish oil I lubricate the brain As I slip through the sky With a frictionless flicker My lightening wings Brain waves rapidly fluctuate Perfect balance held Between left and right Each wing a hemisphere As they beat and beat Accelerating into hyper speed 80 to a hundred or more Beats per second As though injected With a sonic speed Synapses bursting and exploding Exponentially connecting Blistering wing speed I become electric My circuits exploring Rippling and flickering through paper My brain comes alive Flashing multicolored lights Like the cities nights But still spaces collect around me As I am buffered from the world Perfectly still though standing On an invisible ledge I hold my mind in place While I hum in space Head down I drop my beak Into a funnel of concentration As I tunnel into trumpets Penetrating deep I flower   In new knowledge Polar aspects of mind Released through coherent communication Set free with coordination I seek to marry chalk and cheese As I hold the balance Between two worlds Flashing synapses firing And combusting Against pointed concentration My mind juggles two ***** Expanding into their fullness Expressing vibrant color My slippery slender beak Slips and slides in As I flutter through pages I discover new unexpected surprises Problems solved, Startling adventures And puzzles completed I find the sugary syrup The delicate delicious sweet spot With the thrill of falling domino's Spilling and cascading Many ripples fanning out Through my mind   I find freedom Each ripple massaging my mind I am catapulted into outer space I dance from fact to golden fact   As I am propelled forward on stardust My momentum shoots me forward I bounce and bounce My mind becoming unbounded   I enjoy this great Hummingbird delight
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Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
HUMMINGBIRD LIBERATING MIND
Feathers glimmer and shine As though covered in fish oil I lubricate the brain As I slip through the sky With a frictionless flicker My lightening wings Brain waves rapidly fluctuate Perfect balance held Between left and right Each wing a hemisphere As they beat and beat Accelerating into hyper speed 80 to a hundred or more Beats per second As though injected With a sonic speed Synapses bursting and exploding Exponentially connecting Blistering wing speed I become electric My circuits exploring Rippling and flickering through paper My brain comes alive Flashing multicolored lights Like the cities nights But still spaces collect around me As I am buffered from the world Perfectly still though standing On an invisible ledge I hold my mind in place While I hum in space Head down I drop my beak Into a funnel of concentration As I tunnel into trumpets Penetrating deep I flower   In new knowledge Polar aspects of mind Released through coherent communication Set free with coordination I seek to marry chalk and cheese As I hold the balance Between two worlds Flashing synapses firing And combusting Against pointed concentration My mind juggles two ***** Expanding into their fullness Expressing vibrant color My slippery slender beak Slips and slides in As I flutter through pages I discover new unexpected surprises Problems solved, Startling adventures And puzzles completed I find the sugary syrup The delicate delicious sweet spot With the thrill of falling domino's Spilling and cascading Many ripples fanning out Through my mind   I find freedom Each ripple massaging my mind I am catapulted into outer space I dance from fact to golden fact   As I am propelled forward on stardust My momentum shoots me forward I bounce and bounce My mind becoming unbounded   I enjoy this great Hummingbird delight
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69
While the globe crawls as S L O W as my bill is thin, I've got places to go, sunsets to chase and mighty, invisible wings to feed, so               bring on the sugar water! Feathers flickering furiously; sweet Jesus! where are my feet? I am BUZZING through today, routes as long as my tongue repeated in an unbroken line thousands of times,               *hey, **** OFF, you goon!               That's MY nectar!               Scram!* Planning my daily rounds, relying on the donations of fans who eye my turf war with childish glee               *and I hope               beyond hope to see               pitcher after sweet pitcher               waiting for me* Because neglect is starvation, an end to the thrum of tiny hearts.
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Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC
My Life As A Hummingbird
We wear this city on our feet Planting our roots with each step Our shadows cast shapes of ancient oak trees stretching out over old squares at daybreak We grow here with the spirit of buildings past, present and rising like a staircase to heaven in the distance, the plumes of white smoke from their rooftops as burnt offerings for incense, spires for steeples, the bundled masses of people moving beneath as the calloused soles of our feet pounding the pavement, Our congregation seated in reverant silence on the R-Line hissing to a stop Their hushed prayers filing out from within to bring the reclaimed sidewalks of Fayetville Street back to life to join this pilgramage They march downtown toward Capitol holding signs for disarmament They bar-hop through Glenwood toasting to deliverance They move in a blur of faces that become us, Rush at all hours through our veins Cross our hearts and keep us breathing, Moving wearing the city on our minds like the greyest pieces of their winter sky and the way it caps the peaks of Mount PNC, BB&T and Wells Fargo like hoodies over our heads We assume monk-like appearances in robes color-coded by season- from blue collar sweaters to cold hard sweat We'll wear their city until we're worn out and wet, We'll wear their dreams at night like streetlamps flickering on beneath wired telephone poles carrying conversations about each one as far south as Florida, fears unspoken, made visible on iron park benches too cold to sit on at this hour We'll keep walking and wear this city like backpacks over our shoulders under the watch of their heavens, the skyline a glowing testament of every step taken toward someplace higher.
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Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 7:27 PM UTC
Becoming Raleigh
We wear this city on our feet Planting our roots with each step Our shadows cast shapes of ancient oak trees stretching out over old squares at daybreak We grow here with the spirit of buildings past, present and rising like a staircase to heaven in the distance, the plumes of white smoke from their rooftops as burnt offerings for incense, spires for steeples, the bundled masses of people moving beneath as the calloused soles of our feet pounding the pavement, Our congregation seated in reverant silence on the R-Line hissing to a stop Their hushed prayers filing out from within to bring the reclaimed sidewalks of Fayetville Street back to life to join this pilgramage They march downtown toward Capitol holding signs for disarmament They bar-hop through Glenwood toasting to deliverance They move in a blur of faces that become us, Rush at all hours through our veins Cross our hearts and keep us breathing, Moving wearing the city on our minds like the greyest pieces of their winter sky and the way it caps the peaks of Mount PNC, BB&T and Wells Fargo like hoodies over our heads We assume monk-like appearances in robes color-coded by season- from blue collar sweaters to cold hard sweat We'll wear their city until we're worn out and wet, We'll wear their dreams at night like streetlamps flickering on beneath wired telephone poles carrying conversations about each one as far south as Florida, fears unspoken, made visible on iron park benches too cold to sit on at this hour We'll keep walking and wear this city like backpacks over our shoulders under the watch of their heavens, the skyline a glowing testament of every step taken toward someplace higher.
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37
Little poppies, little hell flames, Do you do no harm? You flicker. I cannot touch you. I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns And it exhausts me to watch you Flickering like that, wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth. A mouth just bloodied. Little ****** skirts! There are fumes I cannot touch. Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules? If I could bleed, or sleep! - If my mouth could marry a hurt like that! Or your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule, Dulling and stilling. But colorless. Colorless.
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15.5k
Poppies In July
He soars high, floating in her wake Inhaling every detail of her flowing grace Her brushes of touch, causing him to shake Delicate weaving hearts of leather and lace Inspiration sails high, with her drifting in his mind Ripples from deep emotions, she elegantly paints Closing his eyes, entrusting her, flying blind Together, one with the other, interlinking chains Flickering fates of fireflies under stars aligned Precious moments in time, worlds collide A rendezvous in the Milky Way, by design Consummating souls kiss passionately, ignite
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Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 9:40 AM UTC
Melody of a Muse
I'm sorry if I fell in love with you too fast. But it was mesmerizing The way that you Took your pure sincerity And made me feel A little more whole I'm sorry if I fell in love with you too fast. But how could I not Immediately attach to someone, Who saw something in me That I didn't never believed was there? I'm sorry if I fell in love with you too fast. But when I told you, I was damaged, And lost, And you should've left right then, You made a home for me In your arms, And all I'd ever wanted was a home. I'm sorry if I fell in love with you too fast. But you whispered sweet words, And looked at me the way The sun looks at the moon In that moment before They're forced apart I'm sorry I fell in love with you too fast. Because you deserve more than a ghost of a girl With nothing more than naive optimism And broken butterfly wings In her flickering soul. And that's all I have to give you.
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Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
I'm Sorry I Fell In Love With You Too Fast
Manila, Manila, Your bustling streets vibrate with the rumbling of the jeepneys and the hollers of the drivers as they say, “Pasahero diyan, kasya pa, kasya pa!”; (Any passenger there, some seats are still free!) Your nights twinkle with the Christmas lights that surround every tree around the Meralco building when September begins; Your endless traffic jams keep McDonald’s and KFC alive twenty-four by seven where traffic enforcers dodge cars and vans trucks and tricycles and jeepneys and bicycles while dancing to the rhythm beating in their own ears with a smile and a salute to all the drivers from dawn to dusk; The noise awakens the outskirts of your city filled with people who never fails to smile even when the storm pirouettes like a tempestuous ballerina, where children watch the roads transform into this ocean of black water and small wooden boats become the means of transportation; paddling in between houses as the adults try to go to work; where chickens waddling upon roofs and cats chasing rats become the best forms of entertainment but Manila, your lingering smell of cancer comes with the dark blue starless sky telling people to grip their bags until it merges with their bodies. Manila, say good night while they hold it tight protecting it from the dark humid air where thieves come out to thumb down unscrutinised objects from shallow pockets by the flickering lamps across the blazing red and emerald green lights you see less and less and less faces as the Sun sinks and says good bye. Stop and try to tranquilise yourself. Your city is now lead by a blood-thirsty leader. Apologies from gunshots overpower the cries of help from your people. Manila, ignore them and sleep well. Let the truth decay while lives burn and vanish. Prayers cannot save your mutinous ignominy. Halcyon days are over but Manila, you are still a beautiful city. Your resilient people overflows with hospitable hearts. Their faces plastered with big smiles as they welcome us for you and say, “Mabuhay!” (Long live!) proud and mighty. Offering their minds on banana leaf plates to everyone who visits, Giving away their hearts in small loot bags to everyone who leaves, The Pearl of the Orient Seas was my hood. Manila, despite your lack of snow and intense weather swings, You are and will always be my home.
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Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 4:54 PM UTC
Pearl of the Orient
Manila, Manila, Your bustling streets vibrate with the rumbling of the jeepneys and the hollers of the drivers as they say, “Pasahero diyan, kasya pa, kasya pa!”; (Any passenger there, some seats are still free!) Your nights twinkle with the Christmas lights that surround every tree around the Meralco building when September begins; Your endless traffic jams keep McDonald’s and KFC alive twenty-four by seven where traffic enforcers dodge cars and vans trucks and tricycles and jeepneys and bicycles while dancing to the rhythm beating in their own ears with a smile and a salute to all the drivers from dawn to dusk; The noise awakens the outskirts of your city filled with people who never fails to smile even when the storm pirouettes like a tempestuous ballerina, where children watch the roads transform into this ocean of black water and small wooden boats become the means of transportation; paddling in between houses as the adults try to go to work; where chickens waddling upon roofs and cats chasing rats become the best forms of entertainment but Manila, your lingering smell of cancer comes with the dark blue starless sky telling people to grip their bags until it merges with their bodies. Manila, say good night while they hold it tight protecting it from the dark humid air where thieves come out to thumb down unscrutinised objects from shallow pockets by the flickering lamps across the blazing red and emerald green lights you see less and less and less faces as the Sun sinks and says good bye. Stop and try to tranquilise yourself. Your city is now lead by a blood-thirsty leader. Apologies from gunshots overpower the cries of help from your people. Manila, ignore them and sleep well. Let the truth decay while lives burn and vanish. Prayers cannot save your mutinous ignominy. Halcyon days are over but Manila, you are still a beautiful city. Your resilient people overflows with hospitable hearts. Their faces plastered with big smiles as they welcome us for you and say, “Mabuhay!” (Long live!) proud and mighty. Offering their minds on banana leaf plates to everyone who visits, Giving away their hearts in small loot bags to everyone who leaves, The Pearl of the Orient Seas was my hood. Manila, despite your lack of snow and intense weather swings, You are and will always be my home.
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76
I see my light going on and going off on and off on and off flickering flickering, I see them flickering the light is fleeting limited limited the light may have been until I decided to be limitless
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May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 3:31 AM UTC
Light
I kiss like a thunderstorm, crashing into your lips with the force of a hurricane, I haven't felt the rain in far too long There is a promise sealed to your mouth, a record you can feel beneath your tongue reminding you that I'll stay forever locked in your eyes -- I won't move until you break your gaze I kiss like I'm dying, the candle flickering down to the wax, no amount of kindling can revive me from a death like this And when your breath unfolds from the back of your throat, you'll kiss me back to life, falling back into step with everything I knew before, your bricklayer's tongue chiseled between my teeth -- we fit like rungs on a ladder, pulling me back to the surface I kiss like a firestorm, knowing that one day something will blow me away
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Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 7:44 PM UTC
Crash
things can be different from different point of views. the same sceneries can be dull or they can be filled with hues. the flickering flame can burn or the flame can be warm. the water can quench thirst or the water can bring storm. we don't have to think alike, we don't have to be the same. for some people my words could mean and for some they could be lame.
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Jun 25, 2019
Jun 25, 2019 at 3:02 AM UTC
a different scenery
Left -  my desires boiling... my needs over-powering...   carefree                                                                     Right-                                                                                                                                                                                  my light flickering...                                                                my heart yearning...                                                                                                                                                                                               Passionate                                                                     Center -                                                    Logical                                                    Steady                                                    Reliable                                                                - March 11th, 2014  11:48 pm
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Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
Segregation.
Left -  my desires boiling... my needs over-powering...   carefree                                                                     Right-                                                                                                                                                                                  my light flickering...                                                                my heart yearning...                                                                                                                                                                                               Passionate                                                                     Center -                                                    Logical                                                    Steady                                                    Reliable                                                                - March 11th, 2014  11:48 pm
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13
Down the back alley on the cold winter evenings your eyes stared only at me I didn't smoke as my father gave up yet i didn't dare disagree you parted your lips you drew in a breath and your body relaxed in turn exhaling slowly, you grin and you show me how much your body did yearn for the taste of a cigarette the embers and ashes matches and lighters, causing flickering flashes you said I didn't have to but I said I didn't mind that the smoke in your mouth would soon be in mine I did not draw back my mouth- under attack I just had to last the duration because I didn't smoke the taste scorched my throat and gave off a burning sensation It must have felt different as just in an insant You stub out the cigarette with a hiss silently relieved and now more at ease oh, the things that you do for a kiss
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May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 4:41 AM UTC
Second Hand Smoke
the electricity runs through our veins and past the street signs we rumble by in the car you stole, we go fifty above the speed limit, the roof of the car is the noir sky above and the midnight rain pelts our upturned faces the dancing drops of water drip onto our smiling lips the sound of the sky collapsing echoes the flashes that streak the sky, the flickering light casts paved roads with a brief brightness (as if god were wearing light up sketchers) the lacy brallette that wears me gives me the bravery to stand up in the speeding car the velvet pants that ripple with the wind drink up the nighttime rain and the rare headlights race past us, heading into homes and hearts the mellow playlist that connects the aux cord to our ears blasts so loud, we can no longer hear our insecurity the mascara that once clung to my eyelashes now streams down my face. on a two way street, we drive down the middle unafraid in the face of direct dangers so unaware of the towering empty skyscrapers and instead highly exhilarated from the street signs we drive by too fast to read the blocky lettering the road signs glint, smiling as we wave and reach towards them the cigarettes you smoked are thrown through the open window, still smothering slightly. i can still taste the smoke on your lips and your hand tucks my hair behind my ear and as the wind objects and inhales unreal in the hazy a.m. car trip the tunnel rushes towards us, and we both hold our breaths, as if breathing would contaminate us. the lights that glint, cast a yellow-white glow and for once, i see you for who you are a boy too buzzed to feel a kid who only felt "sort of" a person who couldn't heal and a lover who could never give love
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Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 3:34 AM UTC
Noir
the electricity runs through our veins and past the street signs we rumble by in the car you stole, we go fifty above the speed limit, the roof of the car is the noir sky above and the midnight rain pelts our upturned faces the dancing drops of water drip onto our smiling lips the sound of the sky collapsing echoes the flashes that streak the sky, the flickering light casts paved roads with a brief brightness (as if god were wearing light up sketchers) the lacy brallette that wears me gives me the bravery to stand up in the speeding car the velvet pants that ripple with the wind drink up the nighttime rain and the rare headlights race past us, heading into homes and hearts the mellow playlist that connects the aux cord to our ears blasts so loud, we can no longer hear our insecurity the mascara that once clung to my eyelashes now streams down my face. on a two way street, we drive down the middle unafraid in the face of direct dangers so unaware of the towering empty skyscrapers and instead highly exhilarated from the street signs we drive by too fast to read the blocky lettering the road signs glint, smiling as we wave and reach towards them the cigarettes you smoked are thrown through the open window, still smothering slightly. i can still taste the smoke on your lips and your hand tucks my hair behind my ear and as the wind objects and inhales unreal in the hazy a.m. car trip the tunnel rushes towards us, and we both hold our breaths, as if breathing would contaminate us. the lights that glint, cast a yellow-white glow and for once, i see you for who you are a boy too buzzed to feel a kid who only felt "sort of" a person who couldn't heal and a lover who could never give love
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43
you speak with fine lips modeled from flickering stars with words of the sky
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Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 8:27 PM UTC
words of the sky
You are a flame inside me Flickering, Teasing, Caressing, Smoldering. You are far away Yet so close Teetering on the edge of my imagination. The yearning is the knowing The mere knowledge of you That you are existing somewhere Somewhere my reality can’t touch. My words spill out of me Like candy from a piñata Pages and pages Poems scattered about like hungry pigeons. You make me so hungry So eager to express To spill my inner self onto empty pages. You are my muse My cruel inspiration The tears staining my pillow. I am dancing on a cloud Unnoticed by you As you live your life Unaware of mine. My words are endless My thoughts knowing no bounds As I imagine your eyes Penetrating through me. You are my fantasy My never forever My drug of choice. You are the fuel that keeps me writing, Feeling, Expressing. You are my special light Turning on inside me When all my creativity is turned off. I want to ravish you Bite the buttons off your shirt Loosen your necktie Drown in your eyes without a life jacket. You are my muse crush The smile on my face The pain in my heart The hello that never comes The inevitable goodbye. © 2014 Stacey Handler
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Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 2:43 AM UTC
Muse Crush
By my dear angel Sandalphon as he has been lead in my hand, leaving a clear trail of a cursive writing on a transient sheet of paper, A crimson sight, so black that one would be caught in trance, reflected by unnatural light of a lamp flickering in the dark of the night, as his feather releases a sweet scent of fresh yet unused ink, Together with Zadkiel's blooming and happy memories I then am capable to write such down, in an attempt to create poetry, focused, The sound of scratchy, itchy, rasping echos through this room I inhabit, but already left spititually, engaged in the world of fantasy, Word by word, the paper is penetrated by this pen, pleasantly, thoughtfully, gently sliding over it to not damage it by accident, There is no need for haste, heartache nor rush, not is there the need to be concerned about this angels work, duty and his mission to accompany me throughout each and every writing which unfurls, Alike a story from my mind, from my emotions, deepest wishes, cast on the physical realm with his help, And once his strengh weakens, fades, loses might and goes out alike an dying ember he will be dunked in fresh ongoing determination, so that he can repeat his duties with exuberance, joy Casting a smile on my face once literature has been created, As then I lay my dark knight, my servant for the night to rest, Until another poem has to be written and his duty awakens him, After all, in this dreamlike tale it is well to remember; You don't have to die in a dream ~ Umi
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Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC
Angel Sandalphon
By my dear angel Sandalphon as he has been lead in my hand, leaving a clear trail of a cursive writing on a transient sheet of paper, A crimson sight, so black that one would be caught in trance, reflected by unnatural light of a lamp flickering in the dark of the night, as his feather releases a sweet scent of fresh yet unused ink, Together with Zadkiel's blooming and happy memories I then am capable to write such down, in an attempt to create poetry, focused, The sound of scratchy, itchy, rasping echos through this room I inhabit, but already left spititually, engaged in the world of fantasy, Word by word, the paper is penetrated by this pen, pleasantly, thoughtfully, gently sliding over it to not damage it by accident, There is no need for haste, heartache nor rush, not is there the need to be concerned about this angels work, duty and his mission to accompany me throughout each and every writing which unfurls, Alike a story from my mind, from my emotions, deepest wishes, cast on the physical realm with his help, And once his strengh weakens, fades, loses might and goes out alike an dying ember he will be dunked in fresh ongoing determination, so that he can repeat his duties with exuberance, joy Casting a smile on my face once literature has been created, As then I lay my dark knight, my servant for the night to rest, Until another poem has to be written and his duty awakens him, After all, in this dreamlike tale it is well to remember; You don't have to die in a dream ~ Umi
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14
I watch that flame Flickering coyly Yet so powerful Radiance around Wakes up the flame Within me Reflected outside A silent bond Flame sways My eyes follow It movements Burns with passion The air and silence Adds to the ambiance Here I sit alone With the flame That lights my path
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Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 9:42 AM UTC
The Flame
^ Be Bliss Beseech Sensual healing Remote vibrations Contemporary beliefs Dissolve within a great force Of electro magnetic Sun's charge Fantasy ride over the ridge on the horizon's Flickering tales and there aware beauty satiates long lost Trust in human kindness which is unmasked is a true longing Immense need borne into a trembling moment revealing thy Love energy is dancing as one giant leap in the realms of Levitation on my shy sound wings as they soar magnificent Wondering why thy tiny serene particles open Everlasting desire to be as one luminous Mandelbrot's rainbow reflection on Edges of a pure cosmic droplet Effervescent dark magic is This darkest intelligent Deep pertinet gaze Absolutly free Yearnin' For I ° ***E A  R    T          H                Di                         vine                                  To                                            Bl                                                os                                                  s                                               om                                     A                        ***            N***
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May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 6:50 AM UTC
Department Of Kind Intelligence
I am Sin In its purest and rawest form. & for that, I have no shame as fire in the bible resembles purification. I... repent. And so as this fire burns between my legs flickering images of your full, yet delicate figure cross my mind. I turn into myself & wish me anew. my fingers cupping and twirling so gracefully... caressing... as I scream my confessions I'm born again.
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Oct 24, 2022
Oct 24, 2022 at 10:53 PM UTC
When Sin Comes Knocking
Enveloped in a cloud of rain, drenching spirit and soul. Sunlight flickering through clouds ahead; finally hope. Leaving sadness behind at last, my spirit longs to move in the sunlight of dance. My body singing, rising to its newness, twilight is turning bright with vibrancy ahead. Praying the path will not turn to the dark rainforest of gloom once more. Can I believe in the light? Can I believe in a future with hope?
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Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 9:26 AM UTC
MOVING INTO THE LIGHT
Pure? What does it mean? The tongues of hell Are dull, dull as the triple Tongues of dull, fat Cerebus Who wheezes at the gate. Incapable Of licking clean The aguey tendon, the sin, the sin. The tinder cries. The indelible smell Of a snuffed candle! Love, love, the low smokes roll From me like Isadora's scarves, I'm in a fright One scarf will catch and anchor in the wheel. Such yellow sullen smokes Make their own element. They will not rise, But trundle round the globe Choking the aged and the meek, The weak Hothouse baby in its crib, The ghastly orchid Hanging its hanging garden in the air, Devilish leopard! Radiation turned it white And killed it in an hour. Greasing the bodies of adulterers Like Hiroshima ash and eating in. The sin. The sin. Darling, all night I have been flickering, off, on, off, on. The sheets grow heavy as a lecher's kiss. Three days. Three nights. Lemon water, chicken Water, water make me retch. I am too pure for you or anyone. Your body Hurts me as the world hurts God. I am a lantern ---- My head a moon Of Japanese paper, my gold beaten skin Infinitely delicate and infinitely expensive. Does not my heat astound you. And my light. All by myself I am a huge camellia Glowing and coming and going, flush on flush. I think I am going up, I think I may rise ---- The beads of hot metal fly, and I, love, I Am a pure acetylene ****** Attended by roses, By kisses, by cherubim, By whatever these pink things mean. Not you, nor him. Not him, nor him (My selves dissolving, old ***** petticoats) ---- To Paradise.
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Fever 103°
Pure? What does it mean? The tongues of hell Are dull, dull as the triple Tongues of dull, fat Cerebus Who wheezes at the gate. Incapable Of licking clean The aguey tendon, the sin, the sin. The tinder cries. The indelible smell Of a snuffed candle! Love, love, the low smokes roll From me like Isadora's scarves, I'm in a fright One scarf will catch and anchor in the wheel. Such yellow sullen smokes Make their own element. They will not rise, But trundle round the globe Choking the aged and the meek, The weak Hothouse baby in its crib, The ghastly orchid Hanging its hanging garden in the air, Devilish leopard! Radiation turned it white And killed it in an hour. Greasing the bodies of adulterers Like Hiroshima ash and eating in. The sin. The sin. Darling, all night I have been flickering, off, on, off, on. The sheets grow heavy as a lecher's kiss. Three days. Three nights. Lemon water, chicken Water, water make me retch. I am too pure for you or anyone. Your body Hurts me as the world hurts God. I am a lantern ---- My head a moon Of Japanese paper, my gold beaten skin Infinitely delicate and infinitely expensive. Does not my heat astound you. And my light. All by myself I am a huge camellia Glowing and coming and going, flush on flush. I think I am going up, I think I may rise ---- The beads of hot metal fly, and I, love, I Am a pure acetylene ****** Attended by roses, By kisses, by cherubim, By whatever these pink things mean. Not you, nor him. Not him, nor him (My selves dissolving, old ***** petticoats) ---- To Paradise.
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