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"fluoresce" poems
All around me was a dark universe I cannot outrun Endless rain of comets, parts of me strewn Until you went and became my King Sun And I, becoming your majestic Queen Moon You filled my universe with eternal light Passing through the dark recesses of my core You made my faded spark ignite Making me beam with delight forevermore But the craters, they will never fade away For they sometimes still remind me of darkness Having me gone astray Dispirited once again that I may never fluoresce Yet, the King Sun illuminates ever so vigorously And as long as he is there, I know we will reign endlessly
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Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 4:31 AM UTC
Sonnet 01: Sun and Moon's love story
Woke up early morn at three AM Another night closer to heart of thee I swam Wading depths to feel your passionate caress Winds beneath the clouds push my stars to fluoresce Current tides waves to embrace shores in loves solitude Memories paddles melodies as though gently canoed Thoughts stayed in mind as time ticked from three to six Breaking dawn colors another day with your timeless pics
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Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 7:51 PM UTC
3 AM
*Firelight Affairs & Atmospheric Starlight, Rainbow Instincts Enlightening Her Satellite Twilight, Quivering Symphonies & Colorful Voices, Lyrical Abstracts Of Her Monochrome Noises, Prismatic Rage In Her Eternal Sage, Resonances Whispering Her Voices Onstage, Vertical Ensembles Of Her Ecstatic Fashions, Witty Odes Enlightening Her Arrested Passions, Prancing Temptations & Provoked Mysteries, Entrancing Her Artistic Waves & Surging Tapestries, Storyteller Flares On A Perpetual Lease, Intoxicated Mirrors Of Her Spiritual Release, Lucid Memoirs & Condensed Revelations, Inquisitive Glances Of Her Cupid Flirtations, Crimson Armors & Her Reflective Scents, Illustrious Serenity Embossed In Her Scenic Ascents, Fluoresce Echoes & Her Scenic Prelude, Coalesce Spotlights Guiding Her Summer Nudes. - 01:24AM -*
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Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 3:00 PM UTC
Firelight Affairs & Atmospheric Starlight
In a world lined by lies, we look not to hallow men but to; Crinkled white pages. Engulfed by the smell of home and fluoresce. Our heads swim with what can, could, and will be. Those imaginary heroes become. Us and we fight monsters made of concrete text. And it ends every time we close the book. But our hearts continue to beat with miscue prose, to the tune of pink love-struck blushes. Those fairy tales and happy endings bless gifts to those scared of their reality. When our hands touch paper spines we blossom Our minds unfold and become meadowsweet; Flowers of yellow and green on a brook. Through little black lines we see life and death, tame worlds of dragons with words with whispered words, and grow beyond the boundaries of literature inspiring us to wear our own armor. The truth to the lie of fiction allows it to become far more truer than truth.
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Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
Truer than Truth
leaked violet pulse rapid electrodes vapor fail electron fuse tube light ultra input intensity flicker strain power percent breaker visible heat filament pins ballast burn shortwave excited electric gas
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Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
fluoresce
Like the moon, her eyes glisten in the midnight garden Daisies delicate in the soft breeze by her feet Fire roars in her heart, but stays frozen to the touch Lips like pink roses in the spring The clouds lay in wait for a storm - she gazes From a million miles away, stars fluoresce her gloomy skies Aids her wandering mind to see the beauty of the night A small nose points up as she watches Birds soar swiftly to their nests for safety At her feet, rodents scurry home to avoid their dark predators The hours draw long She stands still as the world continues to shift around her. Gloomy skies shift to blue Her skin warms, lips like dark wine Daisies turn towards the rising sun The once glistening eyes ‘come dull, her heart to stone Stars vanish in the light, clouds fade away Her mind stays put just as her feet The once midnight garden becomes a field of infertility Her dreams gone like the moonlit skies She waits for night again.
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Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 1:21 PM UTC
Little Moment of Heaven
i. O' sempiternal recherché Majesty Thine winsome Penumbra overtaketh; Between the window's of Yahweh. ii. O' fluoresce me with allay Cometh to me tonight; Cuddle with me until day. iii. Hush, mine darling of Michael the archangel; Taketh mine hand's, get with me entangled. iv. From space, to the third sky To the country view, and Bengal; We shalt rest fine, mine beloved. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poets poetry ©Earl Jane nagley/ Filipino rose dedication
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Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
O' sempiternal recherché Majesty
When you wake up in the morning And there's a note on your mug "I didn't want to wake you" "I left your favorite donuts on the table" "When you sleep you make little sobbing sounds" (And I think that's cute) is implied To no longer be your own To be stealing his deodorant Because you miss his smell at work And kitchen smells are not musician smells And guitar strings are not Your body But they might as well be Because you feel Every Tiny Note He plays You would gladly do his laundry For another song to fall asleep too Many ways he kisses you Too many places to count the stars Too many phantom vibrations And you think your phone is ringing Because he just wants to talk about your day You lose it for a minute But it's nothing It's the wind blowing It's just missing someone And you're terrified you've forgotten The shadows his nose casts and The dilations of his eyes And the shapes of his words As they meet your ears But you look up at the moon How it waxes It wanes Your love goes through phases That bring in the tides And wash lost shark's teeth out to sea Your love changes daily Loving him is often scary You are perpetually quaking Remembering how quickly Sweet things dissolve in the rain Sugar wastes enamel Like time wastes muscle You could fit a camel through the eye of a needle Easier than you can handle this Than you can wrap your head around Caliente Having no control Because you cut the reins You wanted it that way And you forgot that fear Taste like red wine and stale saltines And being out of ice cream You wanted it that way You wanted a love story You wanted to know that there's no such thing as control anyways No such thing as An autonomous heart And you are ****** Because you could draw the shadows his nose casts The squeeze of his *** The way his eyes fluoresce at the sight of you From memory You are ****** because he is all you can think about Past, present, future I mean, you are seriously ******
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Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC
What it means to be ******
When you wake up in the morning And there's a note on your mug "I didn't want to wake you" "I left your favorite donuts on the table" "When you sleep you make little sobbing sounds" (And I think that's cute) is implied To no longer be your own To be stealing his deodorant Because you miss his smell at work And kitchen smells are not musician smells And guitar strings are not Your body But they might as well be Because you feel Every Tiny Note He plays You would gladly do his laundry For another song to fall asleep too Many ways he kisses you Too many places to count the stars Too many phantom vibrations And you think your phone is ringing Because he just wants to talk about your day You lose it for a minute But it's nothing It's the wind blowing It's just missing someone And you're terrified you've forgotten The shadows his nose casts and The dilations of his eyes And the shapes of his words As they meet your ears But you look up at the moon How it waxes It wanes Your love goes through phases That bring in the tides And wash lost shark's teeth out to sea Your love changes daily Loving him is often scary You are perpetually quaking Remembering how quickly Sweet things dissolve in the rain Sugar wastes enamel Like time wastes muscle You could fit a camel through the eye of a needle Easier than you can handle this Than you can wrap your head around Caliente Having no control Because you cut the reins You wanted it that way And you forgot that fear Taste like red wine and stale saltines And being out of ice cream You wanted it that way You wanted a love story You wanted to know that there's no such thing as control anyways No such thing as An autonomous heart And you are ****** Because you could draw the shadows his nose casts The squeeze of his *** The way his eyes fluoresce at the sight of you From memory You are ****** because he is all you can think about Past, present, future I mean, you are seriously ******
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70
She was neglected and invisible for so long in this wild, overgrown garden, where she lived out her days. No longer having a reason to shine, she slipped into apathy and simply stopped resisting as her petals began to fall and her leaves began to falter. With her young buds in tow she concentrated all her attention onto them, thus attempting to dilute and bury her own hidden dreams. Her name, was Lily of the Valley, and she had forgotten how to proudly hold up her majestic blades and bask in the sun's nurturing warmth. Till one day, when she began to receive anonymous inked encouragement from an admirer from a neighboring flower patch. She'd never seen his face, never shared a drop of rain water, yet, with the passing of each day, his words inspired her and she remembered what it felt like to be acknowledged and adored, for her mind, as well as for her fragrance and beauty. His name was Narcissus, and his endearing and sensuous verses mesmerized her, and once again, her beauty began to fluoresce, for all the garden to see. The account of which the grape vines would duly spread, with uncommon verve. Her bulbs took on the luster of silken pearls...and her fragrance, took on a scintillating aroma that swam along the waves of every breeze. Her name, was Lily of the Valley, and Narcissus was the virile flower that stole her heart...and restored her reason to bloom. -by Mercurychyld Copyrights
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Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
LILY OF THE VALLEY
if you are reading this, then, you aren't alone. your being -right now- by virtue of reading this is with mine; and mine, with yours. and even when you go away, you are still here, existing in my little poem, smeared light remnants rubbing up against mine. and even when i go away after sending this off, i too will still be here like you. all of our weird written words penned at a distance are always connected by some strange residual angle and spin emitted, leftover from our small but eternal interactions; alignments of the light which do not discriminate, nor create hierarchies of strict titanic binaries that demand and interrogate.. your big red hearts make my little grey lightning bolts light up: bright yellow strikes fluoresce over and over and o v  e    r, again and again. your tiny torch forever charging   me, even as i cool off and darken, is much appreciated, dear poets of mine.
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Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 1:47 PM UTC
red hearts make yellow lightning
That gorgeous smile that glistens from her eyes Is ever glowing enchantment of Love’s mastery Exquisitely woven causing passion to comprise Grasping the essence of my being very tenderly With striking precision I am engulfed in her bliss Sent deliriously to bask in her tranquil noblesse A more heavenly place could never really exist Since Heaven itself lies in her spiritual fluoresce Romantically alluring is the smile that she bares Enveloping me in splashing tides of her essence The instant I met her God answered my prayers Leaving me then to sail within her luminescence Spinning through spirals of her flourishing grace Leaves me fervently thinking of her idyllic heart The rapture she produces one could never replace For it is so incredibly pure from you it won’t part Gazing within blares a deep spectrum of rapture Of the true Love that resides right inside her soul That delight she brings if you do in fact capture Will complete your being by making you whole
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Oct 28, 2010
Oct 28, 2010 at 4:09 PM UTC
Spiritual Fluoresce
imagine if our eyes reversed our lives in slow motion; endless sea sickness drowning in your succulent ocean, hoping for the potion to lead this sickeningly twisted endless devotion into an eternity of relentless corrosion imagine if clocks were non-existent time was an abyss, limited yet distant; home is where the heart is - i'm homeless and suffocating in your ****** fluoresce wallowing and distressed hallucinating and possessed homicide and loneliness i feel vandalised like a building, derelict abandoned with flowers growing faces like they're parodists i blink and free fall; i'm standing, five thousand trees tall you're crawling, can barely muster a squall and i'm soaring; ten thousand trees tall
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Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
ten thousand trees tall
I want to taste your skin painted peach I want to kiss where the sun doesn't reach not for the express intention of breech but to reach, teach, and make you screech you're eyes are as big as the sea they have a habit of engulfing me as do your legs, bent at the knee entanglement has never felt so free your lips too, grab me in their caress fondly fit inside their finesse your sweet words in my ears, fluoresce your love causing my heart to iridesce I want to taste your skin painted peach I want to kiss where the sun doesn't reach not for the express intention of breech but to reach, teach, and make you screech oh how love feels when it's right oh how her eyes shine in the light under those stars shining bright as we proceed through the night with every kiss I am speechless unable to say how wonderful each is like warm summers on cool beaches or a bite from the freshest of peaches
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Mar 4, 2011
Mar 4, 2011 at 10:08 PM UTC
Skin Painted Peach
snow globe eyes where enemies hide carried away by a sea foam surprise noises fluoresce clouds fall to rest to save winter's goddess from a fushia mess
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Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 3:44 AM UTC
pixel boy.
Waterfalls of your everlasting memories Flood down, pooling into pre-existing floods Of stories, you left behind Words I could never seem to understand Memoirs of pain and grief that lay dormant on my skin I swim in the ocean of teary-eyed nights That colour these passages Trying to decipher, trying to find the beginning But every time I dip my fingers into these cascading waves My eyes always seem to latch on to the moonlight That you left behind And stars that fluoresce with remediated happiness The waters turn to sand And I sit in this empty space Echoing the future to your dissipating anguish
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Dec 1, 2021
Dec 1, 2021 at 3:52 PM UTC
Moonlit Waves
I am a master of Half-Truths An artisan of rhetoric So skilled in the craft that I have lost the ability to Differentiate between fact and fable My thoughts are a flume of paint Colouring ***** water But the fish do know What is swimmable and substantial and timeless And they kiss at the river beds Tickle the hollows of my ear drum Eliciting a perpetual popping sound, bubbles I presume Reality fuzing as O2 with a shield impermeable to the waves But it draws on my heart wholehearted admirer of beauty that I am To be constantly checked With a map set to fluoresce An blinders on I paint my trails
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Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 12:01 AM UTC
PURGE i
i. O' sempiternal recherché Majesty Thine winsome Penumbra overtaketh; Between the window's of Yahweh. ii. O' fluoresce me with allay Cometh to me tonight; Cuddle with me until day. iii. Hush, mine darling of Michael the archangel; Taketh mine hand's, get with me entangled. iv. From space, to the third sky To the country view, and Bengal; We shalt rest fine, mine beloved. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poets poetry creator ©Earl Jane nagley/ Filipino rose dedication
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Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 7:11 PM UTC
SOILSE, SOILSE mianach O ' ( O' majesty, mine majesty) old irish tongue
The absence of color seems to be my home But inside my heart resides a big rainbow I’ve been to Wonderland I’ve been to Oz and back Still my one true love has a name called black Ultraviolet prisms parade all around us But I’m in a prison, darkness is enough The infrared laser sends chills up my spine But I sleep like a baby in the grey shade of time Yet when I see the sun’s blue corona I’m reminded of the Mona Lisa I’ll never fluoresce like you can- Even insects pick up your frequency But birds fly over the rainbow Picking up the colors frequently
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Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 11:16 AM UTC
Black Light
drawn to your emerald greens, like you are drawn to the sea, i fell into you blissfully. your soft-spoken speeches echoes inside your art-covered walls, green. it's where breaths have slowed and quickened into pleasurable moans... "hey can you please open the window?" it is funny the way i've grown in fondness of the colour green, almost like a promise of our love - an everlasting fluoresce. yet i still want to loudly profess all over again, no motive, just simply me: i am so in love with you, with everything i have. always will be, always yours.
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Feb 14, 2021
Feb 14, 2021 at 7:19 PM UTC
green
Poets are glowsticks, snapped, then they fluoresce. Liquid light. Blood of the lightning bug, squashed and smeared. Nearly extinct. Bleed and glow. The cuts of forever promised, instead, they’re siphoned. Distilled into purple-red neon, spelling out: read me. know I’ve lost.
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Aug 7, 2025
Aug 7, 2025 at 9:02 AM UTC
Bleed and Glow
What’s the statute of limitations         on my obligations                 as a son         on my victimhood as a                 semi-orphan         on my blamefulness as a                 father When does it end—these yet-to-be-seen effects of the mundane         I make now? When do I not carry them         the strings         of the yarn map tracing my endless encounters and tacking         not into cork but         into my soul stretched pulled in four dimensions. Length times width times depth times time. I coexist          in every manifestation of myself simultaneously.         All time all me, all tacked,         All pulled, all stretched by more hands than my own.  Vibrating         into my marrow reminding of the inescapability of the         contracts I didn’t sign.  Most of them. Each day the threads move. They swirl and choke or puncture         taut and pull. pull. pull         me back, back to them.         To early morning and late nights         every day         That old house of repressed memories and façade bonds         of newspaper-wrapped electric circuits waiting for the spark         to finally incense the         old aged kindling of other         string maps of         other pasts of         more and more disappointment. My heart is a prism. a rock.         set in the stone of my chest compressed by pressure into endlessly         juxtaposed edges of glass.         An edge: a time a place a person a me. Surrounded         onyx black but yet         Reflecting.  It’s deep         yes         but shine deep enough         yes, go         and it will reflect         go on, go on         fluoresce         yes yes yes go         myriad colors of spectrums                 of me torn out of the mine of my own construction of         the muscle memories of         the past pains of         the unceasing variations of the crude black **** I’ve made before.         How long                         will I be responsible for                                                      her? For you? Was I ever? Am I at all?
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Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 10:00 AM UTC
Statute of Limitations
What’s the statute of limitations         on my obligations                 as a son         on my victimhood as a                 semi-orphan         on my blamefulness as a                 father When does it end—these yet-to-be-seen effects of the mundane         I make now? When do I not carry them         the strings         of the yarn map tracing my endless encounters and tacking         not into cork but         into my soul stretched pulled in four dimensions. Length times width times depth times time. I coexist          in every manifestation of myself simultaneously.         All time all me, all tacked,         All pulled, all stretched by more hands than my own.  Vibrating         into my marrow reminding of the inescapability of the         contracts I didn’t sign.  Most of them. Each day the threads move. They swirl and choke or puncture         taut and pull. pull. pull         me back, back to them.         To early morning and late nights         every day         That old house of repressed memories and façade bonds         of newspaper-wrapped electric circuits waiting for the spark         to finally incense the         old aged kindling of other         string maps of         other pasts of         more and more disappointment. My heart is a prism. a rock.         set in the stone of my chest compressed by pressure into endlessly         juxtaposed edges of glass.         An edge: a time a place a person a me. Surrounded         onyx black but yet         Reflecting.  It’s deep         yes         but shine deep enough         yes, go         and it will reflect         go on, go on         fluoresce         yes yes yes go         myriad colors of spectrums                 of me torn out of the mine of my own construction of         the muscle memories of         the past pains of         the unceasing variations of the crude black **** I’ve made before.         How long                         will I be responsible for                                                      her? For you? Was I ever? Am I at all?
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72
We got so caught up in antics We forgot time for romantics So caught up in tomorrow's jig We forgot how the stars got so big. So why don't we burn away the stress and re-teach our hearts to fluoresce With the friction of a constant embrace I'll inhale your exhale, we can survive in space
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Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
Ethereal
Innumerable . . . stars are countless joys so immeasurably far laughter . . . shimmering silently or lamenting twinkling tears mysterious messengers fluoresce what wonders are wrought . . . so wordless in spiral formulae undiscovered inscribed by ancient seers a murmuring quiescence pulsates to a childlike sorrowful plea eternity pauses to listen to a prayer . . . from Gethsemane wh gv Mar.16.2007
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Mar 25, 2022
Mar 25, 2022 at 10:51 AM UTC
Gethsemane
As you spend this day playing your heart I thought I'd do the same in writing. And what better place for me to start, than of you, a theme so inviting. Your sincere words from the other night moved me to a joy unfelt in days, and that goodnight prompted you to write the word of action after our gaze. Our talk after was one of old times, when we cursed the time between each kiss. I had wished for more entries to rhyme, as those hours are what I most miss. And to know you longed for those times too rendered the usual action from me, the same bright smile from seeing you, under the same feeling of pure glee. But with this joy comes more thoughts of mine, two in mind I would like to address. Whatever the answers, you'll still shine, more elegantly worded, fluoresce. But the time for these words are not now, I had only wanted you to know: With the words comprised of your sweet vow, I give this - thanks through a kiss I blow.
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Jun 8, 2011
Jun 8, 2011 at 11:32 AM UTC
Kelly said it best.