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"gemlike" poems
I am caught, in your eye, and I drown, in your tectonic wave. You rattle, intimately, for me, and shake... You shift, minutely, soundlessly, collapsing, into sprawling patterns, into formulaic strains, of madness. Then you madden, me, as you cascade, into beautiful, and brilliant shades: Your Rorschach mosaics, in prismatic hues. Each gemlike, facet, of YOU, that is you... Burning out my gaze, with your radiance, as you irradiate... I'd give anything...to label each color, that infuses, your face... Scattering trickles of light, and roseate shapes... as if your soul, were a treasure trove, of the most precious jewels. Your vibrant emeralds... your smoky citrines... your sapphire blues... your ruby reds, and your royal amethysts, too You twist, in my hands... and, under the light, I turn, and return, too, if only to seek, a fleeting glimpse...of you.
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Jun 26, 2025
Jun 26, 2025 at 9:52 AM UTC
Kaleidoscope
Stale yellow teeth spaced between crookedly straight gaps, constantly inspected with your little finger for forgotten bits of your last meal. Thinning grey-brown hair combed every morning with dignity, and a permanent scowl, which twists into a grin at the most unexpected moments. The Bulldog is what they used to call you, though I never found out why. Old age took your strength and unassuming dignity with which young men relieve themselves free of painful swollen prostates. Beneath your sun-blotched skin and flesh-colored hearing aids, You're the same. Ready to introduce anyone who gives your family the wrong look to the glory of Heaven, or the fire of Hades With your ******* fists. "A gem" is what grandma always called you. As though you were the most precious object in her life. I look at you and see your hunch-backed figure twisted with time and arthritis. So un-gemlike. Yet a gem, just like she said.
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Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC
The Bulldog
Stone of massive solidness, shards of gemlike flint Crystalline refractions flash in noon day's sunshine glint, Obelisk in grasses green, immense in grey repose Has lain in place for centuries here, how long, nobody knows. Created in the hellfire deep and ****** up from below Molten in its’ infant form to flow with orange glow. To work its’ way down mountain flank to plunge to cascade’s grasp And tumble, grinding river stone, worn smooth in torrent’s clasp. Rolling swift in flooded flow to beach by river’s edge With grasses green against it’s’ girth in shade of leafy hedge. Seasons come… cold rain and snow with baking heat in summer past Millennia doth flow on by to leave untouched this boulder, vast. Until this day I happened by, perchance beneath a clear blue sky To rest my bones upon this rock, remove my boot and empty sock. Admiring, in the midday sun, the snow clad peak and river run, In wilderness of debris strewn from high volcano past it’s noon. To notice with discerning gaze the rock, on which I sit, is glazed With crystals of refracting fire to capture, now, my eye entire. What secrets lie within this stone that lies so massively, alone? What history has passed it by beneath its centuries of sky? What stories could this boulder tell should I remove its silent spell? Bemused, I tie my boot and yield,this obelisk to chosen field….. Marshalg On the timeless bank of Taranaki’s wild, wild Stoney River. 25 November 2013
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Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 9:31 PM UTC
Grey Obelisk.
A river of scents and cymbals, a closeup look at tomorrow the land and people borrow, collaborating hymnals Stayed inside the darkness, somewhere in there is light sensations are like coasters,  before peace there is a fight Paths beaten for understanding, on an imaginary cutting edge manufacturing mental landings, between the visions there is a wedge Impromptu races can teach us how to deceive decoys in the mind show us what to retrieve a blind world will never know how to conceive a gemlike planet and a pressure relieve
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Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC
Ambledance (by Beaumon Vaga) 1- 5 - 2014
cast off that mortal coil & come with me to the garden & learn how to be royal & let your soft soul harden in the gemlike flame of compassion in the diamondlike frame of Buddha fashion & throw away your clothes & bring all of your books
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Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 2:03 PM UTC
Untitled