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"gyri" poems
If you can invite me Wholeheartedly Invite me to your thoughts And with all my might An aesthetic senses Let me be In my own way In all the sulci And the gyri Synapse the nerves Of sensory delight Transcendent realm Of heart, body and mind Cross the elemental avenue Where solely Soul resides With the sacred worship And the exquisite conscience Let me lighten up Letting your spirit high Nothing much.... Immerse yourself Like yesterday And always If you can invite me Wholeheartedly Invite me to your thoughts
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Aug 13, 2022
Aug 13, 2022 at 6:13 AM UTC
Just Enough So
Come Sunday that day of leisure Between sulci fish shallow gyri Reel out meter form a measure Come Sunday that day of leisure Weekday words weakly pleasure Scarcely etch decay'd papyri Come Sunday that day of leisure Between sulci fish shallow gyri
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May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 3:04 AM UTC
Lucid Interval
There there, little soul Blaze with fire, harvest the cold Under the shade of canopy Shadowing overgrown trees. Dandelion smiles Roses flies Daffodil cries Peony arrives A billion conscience neurons Meandered through the sulci and gyri A brilliant universe of all The vast freedom of human mind.
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Jul 25, 2015
Jul 25, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
Insight Universe
i'm lost in a maze of gyri and sulci tiptoeing over memories triggering reflexes still out of my control over an irreparable foundation what is the use in trying to piece scraps together when the final product is no work of art but an unpalatable ********** of a thing that once was called love
0
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
emotional purgatory
My brain is a graveyard Where cobwebs collect Through gyri and sulci The harvestmen tread The widows float down Painted black and red Armed with venom And needle and thread They sing as they spin A chanty of doubt Stuffing my skull Til ghosts leak out And when they have All had their say And my spine grows centipede legs And crawls away I sink sink sink Into the ground And even the arachnids Cannot draw me out.
0
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 12:30 AM UTC
Cadence of the Arachnids
let the water trickle past your fingers, like memory, falling through the holes in your head, cloudy, tattered. let your head, as fluffy as clouds, brush up against stars, constellations of legends, of sodium and potassium hallucinations. sometimes people lie. let the air brush each and every alveoli of your lungs, each gyri and sulci of your brain. taste the salt -- sweat, the sea, your blood. let the iron, stable, sunbright iron, carry itself with the poise of a red giant -- both radient, striking, bleeding vermillion and crimson. stable, like a mountain, letting rain run itself over with the gentle caress of an old lover, who knows the contours and the dips of the body, and yet is getting -- reacquainted with it, after a long time away. the sweat of the maker sticks to the threads that weave to make the library that makes you, that holds information, holds itself in letters, quartets, spirals. taste the salt. the wind sounds like the sea, outside my bedroom window, when it's too late for my eyes to have not made their coupling of the night. imagine the salt-mist, bright and cold on your face, like the splatter of blood, leaking out of a nose; like a river flowing from precipitation, mist, downstea, rejoining where it once came from, where it was always going to end up. fate is a funny thing. they say that every cell of yours gets replaced every seven years. i wonder how long it takes salt, iron -- to rise and to fall, like the eight minutes the light of the sun follows to get here, to our little pinprick eyes, to our dopamine and norepinephrine, the spikes and dips of neurons, firing. how many heartbeats, breaths? how many crashes of waves?
0
Jan 29, 2025
Jan 29, 2025 at 12:26 AM UTC
from water and back again
let the water trickle past your fingers, like memory, falling through the holes in your head, cloudy, tattered. let your head, as fluffy as clouds, brush up against stars, constellations of legends, of sodium and potassium hallucinations. sometimes people lie. let the air brush each and every alveoli of your lungs, each gyri and sulci of your brain. taste the salt -- sweat, the sea, your blood. let the iron, stable, sunbright iron, carry itself with the poise of a red giant -- both radient, striking, bleeding vermillion and crimson. stable, like a mountain, letting rain run itself over with the gentle caress of an old lover, who knows the contours and the dips of the body, and yet is getting -- reacquainted with it, after a long time away. the sweat of the maker sticks to the threads that weave to make the library that makes you, that holds information, holds itself in letters, quartets, spirals. taste the salt. the wind sounds like the sea, outside my bedroom window, when it's too late for my eyes to have not made their coupling of the night. imagine the salt-mist, bright and cold on your face, like the splatter of blood, leaking out of a nose; like a river flowing from precipitation, mist, downstea, rejoining where it once came from, where it was always going to end up. fate is a funny thing. they say that every cell of yours gets replaced every seven years. i wonder how long it takes salt, iron -- to rise and to fall, like the eight minutes the light of the sun follows to get here, to our little pinprick eyes, to our dopamine and norepinephrine, the spikes and dips of neurons, firing. how many heartbeats, breaths? how many crashes of waves?
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81
These words remain untitled, Unsure of their real label. Do they tell a story of loss or of love? Of confusion, no doubt. So many emotions, yet still no left words to describe. The darkness in which I sit, is almost defining. The quiet rings against my worn eardrums. Night, which brings solace to others, brings uncertainty to me. For I am a victim of tomorrow’s antics. Memories and dreams draw near to each other, The pair, a frightening combination. Torment rakes through my night, Leaving no sane survivor. The moon pokes at my eyes to keep me awake. My regrets and potentials poke at my brain. Mistake after mistake after mistake, There is a future out there for me that holds a similar fate. The question echoes in those ringing ears of mine again. It stretches and folds against my gyri. There is no escaping the poison in the thought. Is who I am enough? These words remain untitled, Afraid of their real label.
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Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 9:08 PM UTC
Untitled
i ride her grayed gyri, slipping from crest to crest as it undulates into dank sulci; trough of her troubles mirroring, i think, my own interpretation of hers, and of mine: and this entwine, it writhes like lithe yeses half-whispered, half-glossolalia secreting babbles from faces wasted by pushpull cravings eaten.
0
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC
Untitled
your whole body becomes a map made for me to explore the uncharted territories conquer the lands where I see fit to leave my mark to seek and record with eyes and hands what is tangible but I wish, more than anything, that I could uncover your mind, your soul, your core, your being to find my way under your skin as you have mine the topography of your brain is a beautiful landscape I want to study your phenomenology to become a cartographer of your sulci and gyri come to know the lines and ridges of your consciousness create new methodology to observe and transcribe your brain is a fingerprint unique, and yours all the more beautiful for it's belonging
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Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 5:29 PM UTC
Research
If this is reality, I need to rediscover it. To go over, the gyri and, each and every sulci Search every nook and cranny, the crevices; if there are any If this is it, What is it? **It's not done. I'm not done.** © Ali Qureshi
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Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 12:12 AM UTC
Reality
You fill spaces in my head I did not know existed. Maybe you are the gyri and sulci themselves. I was looking for something else I thought I could see clearly and that is the worst way to find love. Somehow you found your way to me. I made a home beneath your bones without the proper tools and before I could look up you were there needing me too.
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Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 8:23 PM UTC
I Love You