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Ariel Knowels May 2014
Love is complicated, but it doesn't resonate between two people
It burns more brightly, when you’re dancing in between the fires of the sun
It’s fervent when you’re watching the stars collapse on each other
It’s all encompassing when the black hole ***** you in
The space around us licks our arms and legs as we dance with one another
When I lean in for a kiss, I can feel the cosmos reaching out to me
I can feel the constellations change when we embrace
And when you touch me, it’s as if the nebulae rebirth themselves
Comets only come once in a while
And it seems you’re riding the radiant tail of Halley’s
Max Vale Jan 2017
The meteors that fall down on Earth,
Shooting stars they call them I hear.
The blue hot comets that circle our hearth,
Like old Halley who visits once every 75 years.
Much love to the man himself  Edmond Halley for discovering our traveling friend ;)
Em Glass Feb 2018
there are raindrops that cling and raindrops that fall.
there are comets that call out their dying around
and around--there is halley who's dizzy and knows
which kind of raindrop she'd be if she could reach
the earth--
Jamie F Nugent May 2017
The blood dripped like syrup from a Maple tree.
Your lips sourced the earth.
This was nothing new to me,
But you it must have been your Halley's Comet.

I could not see you, could only feel you breathe.
You wrapped around my fingers like a jelly ring.
On the dresser sat my eyes, sat my teeth,
It's such a shame this only happens once.

- Jamie F. Nugent
Harsha Apr 2020
Every time I call her the result has always been one of the two revolving conclusions.
The phone would ring its heart out but no response, then straight to voice mail,
I don t believe in leaving messages or texting, nor writing on walls - I am old fashioned that way  
The other is - the cellular device is transmitting, my heart races while my thoughts push for her response
Then an erratic of marvels, like the Halley's Comet!
She speaks and my heart stops then begins again, as I witness stars at high noon while recovering;
But, it turns out I always seem to come calling at the most unfavorable of hours, today is no different
Inopportunely, she is otherwise engaged occupied with a work related emergency as always  
Creating obstacles preventing us from our very much overdue and profound conversations;
I love picking at her gorgeous brain and the things she transmits from her beautiful mind- we sync
She answers, I do my best not to fumble and mumble keeping up appearances I ask for some of her time
She declines politely blaming a colleague, due to blunder that took place in a different gallery / department – she sums it all up as a work fiasco in regard to an incorrect delivery, inaccurate client;
Conclusion: she needs to run damage control to minimize the fall out manage this disaster
That gallery those abstract paintings these Sculptures & sketches mixed with paint displayed on canvas  
these fine arts she spends hours staring in to which she makes sense of in her own way- they are her life
She promises to call back and begs for my pardon, her exuberance in that moment makes me hopeful;  
I have been waiting for that call back for little over a decade now, optimistically waiting for a phone call that will never come, in this life time.  
Like the Halley's Comet! Not in my life time.
Halley's Comet is arguably the most famous comet. It is a "periodic" comet and returns to Earth's vicinity about every 75 years, making it possible for a human to see it twice in his or her lifetime. The last time it was here was in 1986, and it is projected to return in 2061.
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2013
there is not a sexist bone in my body.
not a one.

there is not a bone
in my body entire,
that it's marrow,
but just tinged,
more singed,
nay, more, more,
burnt and burning
with
****** desire.


****** desire is a concerto
of the
five sense organs:
vision, hearing, smell, taste, and touch.

my body performs Halley's Fifth.
my woman listens carefully.
THE FIFTH
C O N C E R T O
"She had never heard that symphony before, but she knew that it was written by Richard Halley. She recognized the violence and the magnificent intensity. She recognize the style of the theme; it was a clear, complex melody--at a time when no one wrote melody any longer."
- Atlas Shrugged, Part I, Chapter I
_______________________________
Written on the bus home, just now, that being sort of an apology.
________________________________
First of a series of three; look for 2 x 3, and, 3 x 3.
Satan Dec 2010
Hey i saw you today at The Mortuary.
You looked sad. Was she your mother, the brunette middle-aged woman who was crying all the time? When i saw you i felt something. I really liked you.
Your dark straight hair. Your pale face.
You're such a handsome young man.
Too bad, huh?

I heard you died of some terrible gunshot wounds.
I died two weeks ago. My boyfriend ***** me and then buried me somewhere in the forest. God. I loved him so much. Didn't know ****** was something he could have been capable of doing.

They buried me in The Pinehill Woodstraw Cemetary yesterday.
I think they're going to bury you here as well. Is it today? Oh yeah my name is Halley Maryanne Byrne. I am buried next to my grandparents. Just find the Grey Gravestone with two angels on it. I like my gravestone. It's beautiful. My parents chose the best for me.


Okay i'll be waiting for you here.
Let's hope they're not going to bury you too far from me. I really need to talk with you and get to know you better.
See you at your funeral! I'll be there.
Oh i can't wait.



P.S. Nice Tux!

*Your new friend, Halley.
Nora May 2016
Eons ephemeral
have come and
gone yet you've
stayed the same

I don't want to be
a ghost any
longer but I don't
know how to
materialize
fray narte Aug 2019
my lungs are made of sunbleached storms
and unfinished poems,
stalled and trapped in a cycle
of kisses under the disco lights
and muddled
phonograph records;
it's been so long
since they last sealed
my comets shut;
its ice, dust,
ammonia, sadness,
now trying to spill
out of my chest
every time i sigh a word.

that's what club music is good for;
they mask the sound
of breaking down;
the sound of
bodies and meteors
falling apart;
each noise drowns out
my unsent letters,
and restroom meltdowns,
and my voice, saying your name
over and over and over again
as i come undone
on a stranger's lap.
he looked almost just like you —
and then he didn't.

and my comets almost all stayed,
but they didn't.

and i was almost just alive —
and then i wasn't.

honey, the world got us all wrong —
brewing *****, noise
and ash-brown eyes
across the floor —
it's happiness until it isn't;
in the end,
we're still comets
melting into solar flares
and forlorn figures
that never make it home.

the music fades.
the glasses fall.
it's 8 am, and we still wake up
to the suntrails of all the things we'd lost.
Aaron LaLux Sep 2016
NoMakeUp

Chic lookin' like death,
with her dyed platinum blond hair,
her fake silicone **** and all that make up,
over dressed like Halloween **** girl I'm scared,

the less you wear,
the less impressed I am,
you get dressed up just to get messed up,
smoke a cigarette then get your teeth whitened,

you get done up glam,
just to get run up in,

when,
in the world was it ever okay,
to,
disrespect yourself that way?

Getting fckt by strangers,
without getting money or commitments,
that means you're like a *******,
a ******* that's not even good at business,

you're a despicable disgrace,
to the entire female race,
you wear all that cover-up,
because you've got Krocodil face,
that's Krocodil with a 'K',
better get it straight,
the kind from Russia,
that will eat your face,

eat your whole face off,
face it,
the facts are basic,
real women look way better without any fake make-up.

The only reason you need it,
is because you don't see this,

plus you fill your stomach,
with fast food *****,
you're going down in flames,
what was your name Halley Comet?

Saving money on food,
so you can buy cosmetics,
maybe if you changed your diet,
you wouldn't need cosmetics,

there's nothing romantic,
about cosmetics,
cosmetics cause cancer,
don't you get it?

More vegetables,
less processed cheese,
and your face won't look,
like it's got a disease,

please,

remember these words,

real women look better without any make-up,

without all those name brands we're all naked,

believe whatever  you want to,
but these words will still be true...

So stop dying,
your hair to death,
and trying,
to get the guys to stare at your breast,

you are,
so much more beautiful naturally,
and if you,
go natural well actually,
you might find,
a man who loves your mind,
a man that truly loves you,
for who you are inside.

and I promise this,
in all honestness,

no man will ever fall in love,
with a woman because of the size of her breast,
or the color of her hair,
or the brand of her dress,
no real man will ever really care,
whether your outfit is Versace or Guess,

because good men care about the real you,
not fake fashion brand names,
you are not a cow nor are you cattle,
so why would you want a label branding?

And I promise this,
in all honestness,
that this is,
honest honestness.

Real men fall in love with real women,
because of who they really are,
not who they pretend to be,
real men fall in love with real women,
because they love her soul's avatar,
and her divine femininity…

So let your hair grow,
back out to it's natural color,
if you honestly want,
to find a natural lover,

and save your self,
for those special lovers,
that are truly deserving,
of all of your natural wonders,

leave the fake hair,
for the fakers,
leave the toners,
for the loners,
leave the make up and fake dyes,
for the hookers and transvestites,

you,
are beautiful,
without,
the manicured cuticles,

you are beautiful,
just the way you naturally are,
there's no need to alter yourself,
with some silicone and scars.

Just be beautiful Beautiful,
there is no need to pretend,
and leave the makeup and fake body parts,
for the trannies and mannequins... ∆
From a man to a woman...
#nomakeup
Butch Decatoria Nov 2018
(For Black History Month 1998)


i have a wish
to be profound...
   to be proud and stronger
   and carry myself like the **** poets on Def Jam
voices of Kenya and kings, emblazoned
with wisdom, respected / permanence
tanned in words of Malcolm & Martin's reign...
   to have passions of Nubian queens
   wear a crown to herald my approach
head held high
   without raising a calloused hand,
   copper polished hearts
A presence that only demands simplistic
of silences in the awe, the inspired
unchallenged in my reverence--an African / American ability
   choreography / invention
   the first to dance, when others fear to
to keep it real and say it loud
my human wishes, strong, profound, proud...
sometimes
   gentille...

i wanna be black...
like King Cobra, a hood to umbrella fright
with venom from just my stereotypical sight
   immobilize and paint caucasians whiter
   to be well endowed yet humbly
complicated,
angry but with proven reasons unrequited,
to be singled out by mere appearance
alone, a Halley Berry poster, child - dealing drugs,
   respected yet in the poetry of chains
   creative even in these multi-colored pains
from a thousand lands of strife
music is sister, artistic is brother life
become ingenious
   saxophones in the moody blues,
   athlete of hurtles, jazz / boxing fights / sang...
gold medals, worthy for full frontal
news...

do i amuse you, with these longings?
think do you - it's a cursed delight?
   but life only
   excels with each challenge: our battles
against ignorance / shame defines
the worth we're given
our lot mostly restricted, our lions tamed
perseveres - tho' weep the dust of our ancients names,
and bleeds these,
our cotton soft truths some mistakes
   and Dolby stereotypes revealed
   re-assigned
now worn like brand new:
a garden painted stronger
roots - and robes of shackles' / thorns
sharp with unlocked prejudices
   brown can do no more (for you sir)
   criminal confidences find the unmoving wave of faith
a prominent jaw-line, obelisk-lips
kiss and smack / wet with loving lengths
it is ... no hurt in these earthen eyes
   evident
   stoic, strength, serenity
mine to dance and sing my apathy instead...
about the history, i wish to dis
yes, re-avow
empty empathies before,
   experience my thousands, marching
   Melato’s at the founding fathers' doors, will show
you how to open house
these ghettos of / our violent villages / of tar & soot
shadow our poor ever the more
our stars shine on
   broadway be our stage / Stomps / in the heart, hopes,
   styles rap / songs to battle racial profiles
racial cops in devil blue,
beating brothas, home video tell our news,
while our rich forget the rest
******* **** in their cribs
re-pimped, yes, ******* new money & *****
   of course, they are the talented ...
   almost gods on Apollo / knock on wood...
the music is still
the song still is
the foot is stampeding
the noise will be loud,

i will be proud
i will be profound
   in this time of redefinition,
i will be strong
(i wanna be black) like Etta James
at last...
Ayeshah Feb 2010
I listen for so long at what
TV, Radio & what other people said.
Advertisements, Magazines,
Books on how to loose weight,
Other ways & things to make myself look
pretty.  Pity-Petty me,
Trying to dress like
Celebrities,
Trying so **** hard to fit in & be like those
Models & some of them one hit wonders...
even starting to think there
was something wrong with my skin.
Too dark for many
and yet I have this red hue kind of glow,
White teeth but so UN perfect to me.
Hour glass shape I hated it,
Big strong thighs that just didn't look right,
Truth be told for a while I used to like me
until I started becoming self-sabotaging .
Thinking I could get him or just be happy doing
what all the other girls & women did,
Oh how I wanted to be anyone else
other than myself.
Long curly- unruly hair,
***** some would say
but back then
I'd have it no other way,
Afro puffs, braids,
beads,
Styles that made people question me.
Relaxing, burning&straighting; my hair
To look like Halley Berry  
How she looked in that movie
QUEEN.
I guess.
Making me feel so unPretty,
You sorry lil freak in
the mirror looking right back at me,
My grapefruits sit high-up on myself,  
They perk up and smile at me
in my state of  undress,
Some where some how along the way
I started hating them & their shape,
Wanted bigger even though I'm  38C.
Why? I really don't know...
I guess it all started
way back when;
I was just blooming
into a young lady,
Finding ones self.,
When I started to hate being me;
Foster father told me
I need to eat less,
Only Black/Puerto Rican
with dark skin in
a all White School.
Went onto visit family during this time
and got picked on
at home because
most of my families skins was so light,
Abusive relationships unbeknown at the time
had me feeling like I could never get it right,
Doing what ever "He" He  "Him" liked,
which is also what
helped take away any concept of self.
Went through the toughest 15 yrs of my life,
Married young to a
Man whose opinion
matter more then Mines.
Finally hit 23, Divorced & Free,
A light came on bright as the Sun...
I had to figure out who
I was when everyone told me
I was Ugly,Worthless & Dumb.
See eventually you reach that exhaustion.  
You take a really good look in the mirror,
Seeing me for me what hard facing reality...
I have almond shaped cat like eyes,
Brown hair with auburn highlights,
Full lips that most people pay to have
and I ain't never had to inject rat poison
into any parts of my FAT,
It's at this point where
I had to decide at this crossroad
which route I'd take.
Most would choose defeat but I had my little girls,
I couldn't accept them ever looking
at me as someone who gave up.
I had to figure out how to love myself  all over again
Be comfortable with who I am.
It takes many a lifetime sometimes to
finally come to this conclusion.
But for others like me,
It's really like building or rebuilding a puzzle,
The Puzzle Of You!
Always Me Ayeshah
Copyright © Ayeshah K.C.L.N 1977-Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved
jack of spades Aug 2016
in 2028 we will have a space station circling mars
i have never felt something rattle me so deeply through my heart
my bones will not stop trembling when i look to the stars
i can not stop the twitching in my toes telling me to go
i always threw out “astronaut” as a dream of a dream
something there but always out of reach
but now i know that i can touch down before i’m in my mid-thirties
i see the full moon and i can’t stop the shaking
send me home
send me home
send me home
a teacher asked me if, given the opportunity
would i take a one-way ticket off-planet,
and never look back?
and i laughed
and i told him
mars is not far enough away from earth
send me to saturn and pluto and tie me to halley
i am ready to touch other stars
i love the sun but she is not my Sun
i love the moon but she is not my Moon
i have been sick of earth since i knew that i could be
send me on missions to put it all behind me
“what about your family”
what about anybody?
what about anybody?
i don’t want to be alone in the cold of space
i want to find something out there that might be companionable to the human race
i want to go home
i want to go home
i’m not sure how far that will take me
and i’m not sure how far past it will be from mars
but i know that getting up there will be the hardest part
lift-off
houston, we’ve got a problem
i don’t have enough rocket fuel to get out of this solar system
let’s use a gravitational slingshot to throw me out of orbit
i’ll love earth when she is the little blue dot on a map of the stars
andromeda holds my heart
send me to mars
send me to mars
let me return to the red of my heart
this is weird bc i rhymed so much??? v different from my usual. idk
i'm just really hype about outer space (as always)
oni Dec 2015
halley's comet
comes back around,
but you are not
ethereal enough
to do so
forgivably.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2017
when the time comes, a drunk will speak
more sanity than a sane person is
capable of, then we'll be ripe to talk about insanity,
and incapable of "treating" it.

it's not really about the beard,
well, it sorta is...
i grew mine so i could fiddle with it...
which puts me in a position
where i say: violinist, in the classic fm
philharmonic!
i'm thankful that i was able to grow a beard,
no, not to look "trendy",
****! i was about to ditto in the word cool...
you never realise how much vogue
and indeed: fashion, gets invested in
when we're not talking about clothes
but about a person's vocabulary...
yep, so i'm 30 and have a beard:
or let's just say, ****** hair had the same texture
as ***** hair...
the gods are laughing,
how to discover exist, become so self-conscious
that you're able to tell a joke,
and then laugh back...
       that's why philosopher have beard,
you can just see it in them,
wait a minute: **** consistancy hairs
are growing on my chin!
  mortal have that poker hand ready
and waiting for the existence of gods,
   a Frankenstein momentum...
it's funny... so we just keep on enjoying ***...
   and the reason why i wasn't distraught
about the Fritzel case? i read
marquis de sade's *******
novella...
that doesn't mean i don't think about
       being a spec, a second in Hades' lava lamp
reincarnation flow... like we, really are:
recycled goods...
          laughing about it gives us armour...
reincarnation is so Hindi, i'm
about sport a bindi (that red dot on the forehead,
that macedonian wish we were **** with an
empire, shindig setting sun)...
you're the one talking to me in braille...
i'm  a half-wit trying to compensate the conversation
with an observation:
modern life looks like a revival, or an attempted
revival of the art of dialectics...
humanity is really trying to revive dialectics,
or as the platonic dialogues seem to suggest:
find the right enough of people...
find enough people to agree with you,
there's absolutely no mention of disagreement
in the platonic dialgues...
well... they're really monologues...
back to square 1...
                      it's hard to envision a dialogue
between people, it's even harder to stage
a dialogue, given that we'd have to
take to the art, or quasi-geometry...
and have to constatly fake it happening,
by faking it i mean acting as we really
cannot disregard our apathetic communion
toward the mere act of talking...
    dialectics is an art form... and it's begging to be
revived... but it seems to be failing in
an attempt to revive it...
                        everyone is just shouting
over each other, exchanging insults...
  joking... apparently comedy is trying to slow
things down, comedy is a pseudo-art-form
that's more arty than art itself, it's fartsy...
   who could have thought a **** (**** in polish means
luck) would ever make people laugh...
  we're all in the slaughterhouse askin idol guillotine
to: lay to rest, make ammends,
                say something, something profound,
if not prophetic.
              i just see a chat show host grappling
with an interviewee about how to engasge with
a dialectical art,
   we do live in very artistic times,
people call it minimalism,
they draw a square and you're expected to say
it's profound... because the art of dialectics
doesn't exactly agree to taking offence...
   it means retracting from the fictive monologue
of writing books...
it's a biblophobe movement...
        we're talking retraction,
we are saying: marriage doesn't do it for us anymore...
i'm trapped, in this world, and i have a stash
of 2000+ years of memory that i'm asked to
revise / improve on...
     you expect any different, from what i'm doing now?
people are in want of dialectics,
  they are bored of group therapy yoga....
and they're tired of being treated like
canned laughter... or an audience
with prompt cards they later don at political
rallies...
  like: when to laugh, followed by a t.v. editor
telling some minion: prompt the verb laugh
at an audience at a big brother show...
   i'm drunk, but i'm not stupid,
actually, being drunk and writing this makes
me ulta-conscious... i wouldn't say
intelligent... i think of myself as a sieve
most of the time... but you know, life, life gets
in the way and you sometimes a few
stupid mistakes, that you are thankful for.
i can't remember the last time i used
a dictionary... or a thesaurus...
       and i opened the fridge door about 100
times before i opened the front door...
and walked to the shop
where the cashier knows my name...
i'm like Bilbo Baggins who decided to stay
at home and said: ******* adventure!
i'm staying home and reading J. Joyce.
   we can't find dialectics, no more than we
can ask for a socrates real, by reading plato.
but it's nice that plato suggested that
philosophy could be theatre, i.e. staged,
made into a dialogue...
     just when we were bound and keen to
our sophistry, to our rhetoric,
and felt no emotional content could be bound
by mere talking...
     dialectics is a shade hanging over modernity,
i can't read a sun-dial with it hanging
over us... why art is so ritually minimalistic,
because this one art-form is missing...
no one is going to approach dialectics
is there isn't a real case for expressing empathy
and merely rooting it in: a need for comedy.
that halo-of-an-oasis is going to dry up...
(yes, written while under the medical care
of a headache... that **** is just lodged in my ****
and is teasing me... come out you little
cupcake, i'll flush you down the toilet, pronto!
or as the poles say it properly:
gówno przez ciebie gada / ****'s talking
through you... oh gladness, the oven bound parasite
booked for 37 degrees of the body's high-end
of temp.) -
but it's being staged as we speak,
   an art form, deviating from up-start and on the ready, go!
art of rhetoric...
               modernity is equipped with competent
talkers... persuasive and gnat-like annoying
with their provocations...
  what's missing is dialectics...
  how one side can question and become almost
mermaid... dragging someone into nodding
if not clapping approval...
      we can all agree that some people do talk
with the art opf rhetoric being almost
self-taught... ******...
                     dialectics is so much stranger...
it's an art of speaking that has become
      like a dusty moth infested ******
of a 80 year old nun...
                     she bakes great cookies though,
let her off.
               it's not that we're even having
these discussions, we're slobbering a chance of having
one with lies, shouting and "in your face"
dynamics... it's not even that we can
imitate plato enthralled by socrates, constantly
agreeing, going: aha, yup (nod nod nod,
******* pigeons)...
                    we positioned ourselves for the basis
of having to express hostility...
       because to have reached such a freedom
as we have, that we dare to call it: esteemed,
or highly regarded as in need of improvement,
or redefining.
  we seem to be unable to say why we
can't resurrect dialectics...
           all the talk-shows on a late friday night
will not answer that question...
     i'll spot the Halley's moment though...
a comet known as Hailey (hey! bruce lee)...
        when artists return to less abstract concerns,
we have all the science we'd need...
   can the arts stop contemplating new york
traffic grids, and ******* stops
and we return to celebrating the human form?
   it will really be something to see
dialectics... i.e. with one person so persuasive
that the other person doesn't argue...
    and i mean that as a concept anti despotism
without a massive throng of people doing
a political mantra chant of sheep, herd, approval.
it's like that question about consenting to ***,
that part of you that says: can i actually
think this?
We're two Halley's comets collided;
Awesome burst created our own universe,
Together across this great expanse we traverse;
Finally real after all that we've pretended,
Not just dreamers; we take action
Seize the moment; never caught in inaction,
God made the stars; but we make them shine,
We've hooked the bait line after line
And now after weathering the storm
We're always catching the worm,
We've been shunned;
We've been gunned-
Down by the jealous and the lost;
Who know not their purpose only can accost-
Us wanting to know where we're headed,
And to think once we fretted dreaded
Their accusing eyes,
But they live only lies
Wanting our secrets; envy our success
Always wonder how we excel under duress,
But they'll never know how we trump-
All their expectations; how no speed bump-
Can slow us down; nothing can hold us,
In a magnificent clusterfuck they all lay
Debris caught trailing our orbit; all ruckus,
We're headed warp speed dead ahead; come what may...
© okpoet
Carsyn Smith Mar 2014
Take my hand and follow me deep
to the desires that cower in the hidden garden

there's no point in laying around
if all we see is darkness

I've left sleep behind
rolling in the dirt roads of my past

follow me, Restless,
and we’ll live to see Halley ten fold

dance with me under the falling leaves
and around the blooming daffodils

shattered cobble stone paths
carpeted in soft moss

breathe in the smell of summer rain
as we walk under crystal chandeliers

rust covered chain link fences
laced with green ivy

let's parade around in ball gowns
never to flinch when the twigs reach for our skirts

and they will reach with pitiless hands because
peace comes with a price, Restless

skin softer than rose petals are scarred from
cuts deeper than the Stone's Sword

bright eyes are as clear
as the tears that fall from them

do not be afraid, Restless,
for every nightmare has a dawn

I’ll be waiting with open arms
on the other side of the Gauntlet

come walk with me then, and only then,
we’ll never cry again.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
i almost forgot to mention the one prerequisite of modern love,
they caught the ****** in Scandinavia -
the punter, got punished - not the *******,
the punter - for crossing over the signpost
obstruction: illegal to cross, legally there, illegal to cross -
if you want an antidote to British xenophobia
watch two Brits having *** - esp. those who are
dumb enough to invite omnipresent, omniscient,
omnipotent Onan - Buddha's third and experience
how much they talk during ******* -
and why do you think most people experience
a fall of libido? professionals in ***?
sure, you can just hear behind that professionals
in carpentry - nail it! nail it! you can just hear it,
Chelsea accent and a swear word -
this is Darwinism as much as i care about a panda
bear having 36 hours to be impregnated per annum,
i watch **** out of curiosity - it's a bigger omen
factory than Halley's comet - in every one of us
a Richard Attenborough - well, trans-categorical
monism, **** sticks together - but listen to the Brits
while *******, i say *** ought to be meaningless
and onomatopoeia fuelled - she moans he plays golf,
he ******* she goes on a shopping spree -
wordless, learning a new alphabet -
but hearing xenophobic tongue on the streets of little England
and then watching British ****, you just tend to
'ave a laugh as to why you have to talk so much
when the primeval cuckoo call is already said -
******* is a curiosity for me, having professional
actors in this area was bound to undermine us
and question our libidos as mere friendships -
sooner or later men will pick up on this and will be
like **** prenups, **** marriage, **** female friendships,
embrace solipsism - Paraclete Union -
but it's just weird that modern love needs a prerequisite,
a ******, even if it's acted out, elsewhere translated as
stage-fright - the fear of someone watching -
20th century complaints of serial killers - impotence -
well, we know where this impotence came from, David
Attenborough in the background in hush tone
as if to not disturb - the female mantis teases her Saudi
billionaire into her **** nest to impregnate and then cut
his **** and assets off like a harakiri execution -
as a humanist and not a naturalist my playing field is
bound to be via a third eye, the attributes of the Almighty
reduced to filth of Onan (third eye omnipresent,
omniscient) - but it's modern kosher - Zapruder -
the first to ******* - there ain't no black
in the Union Jack - there ain't enough white
in the Stars and Stripes
- one song lost among Prince
copyrights from you-tube - Manic Street Preachers'
ifwhiteamericantoldthetruthforonedayit'sworldwouldfall­apart,
they deleted it - Prince never got radio on the internet;
album? anthem anorexia - the holy bible / went missing
in Shanghai, lived the rest of his life away from the
spotlight, curating fields of rice into origins of geometry.
Elizabeth Feb 2016
I am 14.6 billion years old. I am energy traveling at the speed of light,
I am a single proton with one orbiting electron, perfectly balanced
With quarks and bosons and higgs inside
And pieces of matter yet to be understood by man.
I am every star, every atom of Hydrogen fused to Helium.
I am a massive object of molten rock, cooling and fusing.
I am trilobite knee and dinosaur tooth,
Wooly mammoth hair fiber.
I am Permian Extinction, I am Ice Age, I am all surviving species.
I am most distant brothers of man, I am first language and first songs.
I am Bubonic Plague and Death
And life out of new molecules from old.
I am the Industrial Revolution,
I am Depression and Holocaust and oppression.
I am titanium and assembly line.
I am Perseid meteor shower and Halley ’s Comet.
I am every black hole,
Inside, another whole universe of me.

I am seconds young, and I have much to learn of
The multitudes of the universe, myself.
charlie Oct 2013
I’m writing this note on a pasty white shaded napkin with my first and last initial painting the fact I’m trying to be poise. I’m trying to be proper. I in scripture the following words on this delicate piece of cloth paper; I said “I’d love you for all of eternity. Until the sky gasps his one last relieving breaths and exhales all of his troubles into oblivion. I promised I would paint your toenails when your back would hurt, I’d eat the ‘everything topped’ pizza because you LOVE mushrooms and I hate the fact you love mushrooms, And I vowed I would wake up every morning and love you…scratch that…I would worship you and all of your forsaken benefits, I don’t care if you work 72 hours a week and only make $4.25 an hour and are basically being robbed for nothing but your peeling finger tips and your aching heels. I promised I’d love you until we saw Halley’s comet. I said I would lay across the roof at a quarter till two an let you draw lines upon my spectacles as I play the stars on my harmonica. I vowed I’d never leave. But unfortunately I am writing this on a pasty white shaded napkin 863 miles away from where I am supposed to be because everyone and everything is better looking ****, besides the sight of me
gd Dec 2013
How troublesome it is trying to forget you.
Every twist, turn and shift
leads right back to your eyes,
which never seem to be looking back at mine.

I'm stuck in this pool of quicksand
filled to the rim with memories of seeing you,
feeling you, hearing you,
loving you.

In my head - like a flash of lighting or
Halley's Comet -
I beg and plead for a wish,
any wish in the moment to

guide me away
from the tormenting vivid doubts of my own mind
and lead me back into your arms.
But it never ends up that way;

what a troublesome act it is trying to forget you
when all I can see,
feel,
and hear

triggers the inner depths of my emotions;
the shallowness of my breaths;
my liquid stained eyes similar
to the stains of red and purple you once left on my neck,

and my gleaming pearly whites I flash for the cameras
who know nothing but my face -
contrary to the knowledge I have of you touch,
your stride, your lips on mine,
your scent hypnotic in such a troublesome way.

It truly is such a troublesome act trying to forget you,
when everything I've been left with
is sewn and threaded with reminders to
always remember.

- g.d.
aurora kastanias Oct 2017
Icy clusters of rocks and dust, leftovers
Of extra matter scattered around a star.
Following the orbit guiding a perpetual run,
For seeing creatures to gaze at midnight skies
In search of glistening shooting lights.

Comets, so named by the ancient man,
Enchant humans to strive and understand,
Beholding their subliming approach to the Sun,
Where radiations and winds melt solids to sparkle
Spews of gas. An aura, a coma and a tail.

Nebulosity inclosing the nucleus confers
On the object a misty glow, distinguishing it
Form a star, hiding water in volatile form.
Tails extending to astronomical units lose
Trails of debris at times, visible to the naked eye.

When finally orbital highways cross,
Meteor showers arise. Debris igniting
As falling stars, enter the atmosphere.
Perseids in August begot by Swift-Tuttle
Comet, Orionids in October by Halley's.

Games of splendour to remind us where
We come from and how it all began.
When antediluvian comets did not shy away
From colliding unswervingly with Earth,
Reach its crust. Inundating the planet with H2O,

For us to be here, witness the show.
On stars and comets
DaRk IcE Dec 2015
Vibrant colors of a feather sync perfectly together flying in a pinkish red sky
The sun is slowing falling into the edge of the earth, rising darkness upon mother earth
The moon slowly peeks its slenderness into the high sky, giving companionship to the stars
Offering great views of territories unsearched
A dragons breathe breathes fire into Halley's comet traveling rings around earths edge
Showering majestic lights with-in a dark pinkish red sky
There above blameless clouds and a sluggish silvery night line is an ivory pearl ruling like royalty in an unforgiving sky. In it are innocent stars accused of passionate crimes that are bridged together like a crucifix overlaying the night. The once powerful now defenseless lights are mourning their very own glow that fades away like compliments. They are fully vulnerable as sitting ducks waiting in the welkin.
These heavenly bodied creatures confined to grey areas and hummingbird grey lines are judged by a non-material heaven. When did the sky become similar to a prison, a jailhouse without bars, the slammer for stars? My guess is It started with the imbalanced moon's tall tale of what could have been. Her words traveled faster than a Halley's Comet going to and from every planet leaving bits and pieces of itself. Just imagine being that high from being high, and still, her highness falls for the stars. Those sparkly poetic gems, beautiful Asian flowers, orchids of the night. Only they are alluring enough to sweep the moon off her feet while the rest of Milky Way collapses at it.
It is unfair these up right things that bless the twilight are birthed in a moment they can't outrun, and still, they bolt through a sightless journey as they are chased by a galaxy of everything from satellites to black holes, but mostly what the scorned moon feels. If only they were shooting stars quick enough to escape from the crescent moon's mood swings and her Luna Eclipse of roller coaster rides So ludicrous you swear it was a dream or maybe some sort of nightmare.
Perhaps the celestial moon was never taught love is not a stranger to some but to most and that stars are not gods, but poets. And each night they spit a fine tune poem to the retro sky about how unsafe space feels in the dark and how there are no good nights there. Just empty goodbyes and as for the Royal Moon she got exactly what she wanted and it is for the precious stars to feels just as damaged as she is.
Dalton Oct 2018
I
I wanted to walk with you,
Talk with you,
But your no longer,
Now I’m no longer too,
And there is nothing that you can do.
I’m not sure what I did,
As we floated amid this lonely cosmos,
I wish I could tell you that,
But you’re gone and I am too,
You destroyed me,
And showed no emotion.
You took my heart,
And threw it to the ground,
In the end you brought on madness,
You took away my sound.

I was a piano,
But you played my strings until they broke,
Then you tried to blame it on me.
Now i’m broken,
I’m worthless to you,
You played me,
Pounded on my keys,
Snapped my strings in half,
Snapped them with ease.
Thinking each broken string was painless,
But I felt immeasurable pain every time.

You think I’m an equation,
Just some math problem,
That you can apply your formulas to and solve,
But that doesn't work,
It just causes more hurt,
To you I am now worthless,
Empty and devoid of happiness,
And my sound?
It’s entirely gone.
To everyone,
But especially to you,
The one who matters most.

I was a piano full of joy, music and soul.
I used to capture memories,
Of emotion,
Of people,
Of the real world.
They cascaded out of photo albums,
Like rain pouring from a roof,
I do no longer.
But last and most importantly,
I used to get to talk with you,
To share my stories with someone else,
I will no longer.

See, what you don’t understand is,
You were my True North,
You saved me from myself,
In the end you saved me from nothing,
Why did you have to yell?
The thing that once saved me,
Turned me down,
Threw me out,
Shoved me into hell.

During my hardest times you stuck with me,
You were there through all the pain,
You were my inspiration,
My reason for doing what I do.
Your love wound up becoming,
The thing I wanted to gain.
But things did not last,
You threw me out like I was trash.

Now You are Halley’s Comet,
And I am the ******* Earth,
You come close every 76 years,
Close enough to elicit feelings,
Right before you disappear,
Shooting into the cosmos,
To not be seen again.
Ripping them right from under me,
Somehow I must have sinned.

If you would have asked me last year,
What my reason for truly living was,
I would’ve had an answer to give.
But I don’t have an answer,
the only reason I can find,
Is that I fear blandness.

I’m not scared of death,
But I fear when the day will come,
Maybe if I could give you a good answer,
You’d stop examining me,
Like the Hubble Telescope.

You look me up and down,
Trying to find my secrets,
To solve my mystery.
But I don’t wanna be solved,
I hide myself away,
But you don’t even care,
You never stop looking.

Even when I'm gone,
The laughter turns to sorrow,
The tears rise to a flood.
You think there's something wrong with me,
I'm just misunderstood.
You act like I’m a poem,
That you can analyze to find the truth,
That you can read my stanzas,
And deduce a hidden truth.
But I am a human being,

You've never looked at me like one,
Stop trying to figure me out,
This wars not one you've won.
It’s my fight not yours,
Stop trying to put yourself on the front line.
It’s the 14th round
And I may be losing,
But that doesn’t mean I’ve lost.
I’m fighting hard,
I’m trying to stay true,
I’m trying to keep it together,
And for some reason,
I'm doing it for you.

I was played just like music.
I'm stuck on loop,
I'll never stop,
Destined to remember the memories,
To repeat the same mistakes,
Some might call it madness,
Some might call it fate.
I am forever changing,
Woven through music itself.
                                   II
We float around the cosmos,
Causing quite a fuss,
Rushing through the universe,
With a fear of getting lost.
The one thing we truly desire,
Is us.

Another human being,
Who can take away the pain,
And maybe just say that everything’s okay,
To leave us with the feeling,
There is not much left to gain.

But only when the pain is gone,  
Do we realize disconsolate,
That we need the pain,
It’s crucial,
To our survival.

I spent my time in the light,
I took advantage of it,
I let it go to my head,
In the end it was my ignorance,
That caused me to stop living.

Humans are fragile,
Just like violins.
And like them,
We are made of strings,
Every time someone pulls on them,
Our emotions change.
But sometimes these strings break,
By someone who doesn’t care,
They leave us trying to play,
With our Bow-hair.

And when we finally realize,
Why we can’t make sound,
It is already too late,
Our string is underground,
One less emotion to feel,
And yet we still go on.

It causes us to feel sombrous,
The light is truly gone.
Just like my feelings,
Devoid of light,
Happiness.

But just like before,
I can see the light again,
I’m heading toward it,
Getting closer each day,
But am I doomed to chase it perennially?

Just like the subway train,
Always running,
Chasing vivaciously,
Towards a destination.

But never reaching a final one,
Until it’s decommissioned,
Consigned to oblivion.
All because it chases weakly,
Grasping for something out of reach.

Life is about the journey,
The destination doesn’t matter.
But sometimes,
The destination carries much more power,
It’s better than the journey,
It’s something truly ours.
                                 III
We all flow freely,
From destination to destination,
Never stopping,
Only feeling fernweh about the next place.
But only by stopping to look back,
Reflect on ourselves,
On our journey,
Do we realize the magnificent desolation.

Most of us miss this feeling,
Not even knowing it exists.
But this magnificent desolation,
Is the only thing that matters,
It seems so clean and familiar,
Almost like spring flowers,
It holds much more meaning,
A meaning dear to your heart,
It’s something that’s only yours.
And once you find it hold on tight,
Because just as the darkness turned into light,
It can easily turn back.
I’ve witnessed it firsthand,
I’m victim to its restless hand.

It makes me sit,
And wonder why,
Out of all the people in the world,
That they could have chosen,
They chose you.

They chose you.
To share their stories,
Their secrets,
Their entire life,
Or sometimes just the view.
They give you their Elan Vital,
Trusting you to choose,
To be safe with it,
To take care of it,

We don’t value people,
Until they're gone from our lives,
Then,
Only then,
Do we realize,
What we had with them,
By then we’re left broken,
Trying to pick up the pieces,
That are no longer there.

It leaves you with depression,
A feeling of worthlessness,
Nothing seems to help,
It’s quite a hit or miss.

You have to fight it yourself,
Maybe you’ll get lucky,
Maybe you'll find someone else,
Maybe they’ll be funny.

That’s what happened with me,
I found a friend in unlikely places,
A friend who made me feel safe,
Someone there for me,
During my darkest time.

They stuck with me,
Through everything,
They are here in every way,,
They showed me good in people,
They’re the brightness of my day.

Yes they have their problems,
We all do deep down,
They go through pain themselves,
It’s hard to keep them down.
But the simple act of trying,
Is the thing that stops your hell.

They bring you back,
Through their own good doing,
They mentor you to health,
They even might just become,
The single one in the world,
That makes you feel at home.

Eventually the sadness became happiness,
It bloomed like spring flowers,
My joyous tune finally matched with someone,
Through Summer's gone and winter's come,
Woven together throughout the universe,
This feelings worth far more than gold,
Far more than anything other,
For what we have is something special,
I hope it goes on forever.

Time goes on,
It never stops,
My feelings mend together,
Yet for some reason,
You seem to be ingrained in my mind forever,
I find myself thinking about you,
Time and time again,
You became entwined in who I am.
I know I ****** things up,
I always do,
Someway or another.

God, I’d give anything for just one more summer,
Just to feel that happiness.
I thought we would stay friends forever,
But you left me weak and vulnerable,
You took my heart and threw it away,
Only for the hell of it.

I’m finally ready to let go,
To forget the pain and sadness,
To remember the memories that I do have,
The ones that were good,
The ones that made me happy,
The ones I understood.
I’ve waited for this moment for so long,
To finally have my demons be gone.

I never thought I’d reach this moment,
Finally being ok,
Being at peace with my feelings.
It’s been so long,
The feeling is so unfamiliar now,
I welcome it.

It’s finally time,
My finals words before you go,
Have a good morning, good evening, and goodnight.
Thank you for the show
Maria Vannesa Feb 2018
Am I a Dumb or you are A Numb?

As the sun shines in the east,
As the wind whispers in my ears,
As the time continuously passes by,
My love for you never last.

You're my Halley’s Comet.
You're my dream come true.
Every time our eyes met,
Heaven and hell collide.

You’re the heat that keeps me warm
In a cold breeze.
Your touch lightens up my nerves
Oh darling!  My love my one and only
Why did you ignore me?

Am I hallucinating to think of you every single day?
Am I too pathetic, when I daydream of you every second of hour?
Oh darling! My love my one and only
Why didn’t you feel my presence?

Are you too numb? Or am I too dumb? To love you this way.
Cheap skinny insecure. tell her who she is.
If she thinks you love her your bound to get a kiss.
Mangled broken ***** girl where has she been.
Promise her freedom and she'll forgive your sin.
Beautiful weak broken nails,
 tired oh so sick
 listen to her heart beat listen to her tales.
Oh so tired and sick
Happy on the outside ***** deep with in.
Staple labels on her fore head, stick em in with pins.
Shes so so stupid and shes so so lame.
Shes been so so good, while in such such pain.

Cheap skinny insecure. Tell me who I am.
Broken down little girl, ******* little lamb.

Cheap skinny insecure locked in my own head.
Halley Layne tired and bored. should have stayed in bed,

— The End —