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"hueless" poems
1042 Spring comes on the World— I sight the Aprils— Hueless to me until thou come As, till the Bee Blossoms stand negative, Touched to Conditions By a Hum.
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Spring comes on the World—
as soon as these blue speckled socks go, that's it. A new bright black death.A solemn weir on a stark horizon.Give me a reason to wear color. My hueless affidavit runs me into the Earth, where I sprout up a pallid keb- brain orf'd, you could drag my etiolated ebon body through the ovine fold or take me to the theater. When I was just a minor teg, I sheared my mim kip, I fuckinggave it to you outright. In this little cote my wan mien nigrifying; my calamitous black, quaffed full of congou in demitasse, of souchong & saucers. My atrous wethered body albicantly degenerating in the atrous sun. I'm crusting over with wanness and you, you're fortifying in the cwm where I used to yaff and stray. Your ovivorous hunger,something I never knew, when first you came for my jecoral flesh, just another bot digging through my soft toison. Like Dall's Prometheus being sheared from the flock-you cut me away. In this drab and achromic world, you put the wanness in my flesh, the gid in my heart. Still. Just these blue socks are left.
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:20 AM UTC
Mew
I Who would be A mermaid fair, Singing alone, Combing her hair Under the sea, In a golden curl With a comb of pearl, On a throne? II I would be a mermaid fair; I would sing to myself the whole of the day; With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair; And still as I comb'd I would sing and say, 'Who is it loves me? who loves not me?' I would comb my hair till my ringlets would fall Low adown, low adown, From under my starry sea-bud crown Low adown and around, And I should look like a fountain of gold Springing alone With a shrill inner sound Over the throne In the midst of the hall; Till that great sea-snake under the sea From his coiled sleeps in the central deeps Would slowly trail himself sevenfold Round the hall where I sate, and look in at the gate With his large calm eyes for the love of me. And all the mermen under the sea Would feel their immortality Die in their hearts for the love of me. III But at night I would wander away, away, I would fling on each side my low-flowing locks, And lightly vault from the throne and play With the mermen in and out of the rocks; We would run to and fro, and hide and seek, On the broad sea-wolds in the crimson shells, Whose silvery spikes are nighest the sea. But if any came near I would call and shriek, And adown the steep like a wave I would leap From the diamond-ledges that jut from the dells; For I would not be kiss'd by all who would list Of the bold merry mermen under the sea. They would sue me, and woo me, and flatter me, In the purple twilights under the sea; But the king of them all would carry me, Woo me, and win me, and marry me, In the branching jaspers under the sea. Then all the dry-pied things that be In the hueless mosses under the sea Would curl round my silver feet silently, All looking up for the love of me. And if I should carol aloud, from aloft All things that are forked, and horned, and soft Would lean out from the hollow sphere of the sea, All looking down for the love of me.
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The Mermaid
I Who would be A mermaid fair, Singing alone, Combing her hair Under the sea, In a golden curl With a comb of pearl, On a throne? II I would be a mermaid fair; I would sing to myself the whole of the day; With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair; And still as I comb'd I would sing and say, 'Who is it loves me? who loves not me?' I would comb my hair till my ringlets would fall Low adown, low adown, From under my starry sea-bud crown Low adown and around, And I should look like a fountain of gold Springing alone With a shrill inner sound Over the throne In the midst of the hall; Till that great sea-snake under the sea From his coiled sleeps in the central deeps Would slowly trail himself sevenfold Round the hall where I sate, and look in at the gate With his large calm eyes for the love of me. And all the mermen under the sea Would feel their immortality Die in their hearts for the love of me. III But at night I would wander away, away, I would fling on each side my low-flowing locks, And lightly vault from the throne and play With the mermen in and out of the rocks; We would run to and fro, and hide and seek, On the broad sea-wolds in the crimson shells, Whose silvery spikes are nighest the sea. But if any came near I would call and shriek, And adown the steep like a wave I would leap From the diamond-ledges that jut from the dells; For I would not be kiss'd by all who would list Of the bold merry mermen under the sea. They would sue me, and woo me, and flatter me, In the purple twilights under the sea; But the king of them all would carry me, Woo me, and win me, and marry me, In the branching jaspers under the sea. Then all the dry-pied things that be In the hueless mosses under the sea Would curl round my silver feet silently, All looking up for the love of me. And if I should carol aloud, from aloft All things that are forked, and horned, and soft Would lean out from the hollow sphere of the sea, All looking down for the love of me.
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58
Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep.
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Westward On The High-Hilled Plains
So often I inhale your cathartic cocktail; it swoons me from my study, my brain trails. Homogeneous with my velvet red intertwines, all else hails. All exhales whisper, loftily, a separate tale. Your embers are like no other; they glow of yesteryear and retract into the present. The warmth and the darkness, you segment. Each draw, intoxicating, one after another. Like a con artist you remain vague, and disappear; any remaining inflection sails beyond the oculus; presence constant, but hueless. Those unacquainted always sneer. Knowing not, your gift is of the most diverse; but, in the end, like all else, your essence is a curse.
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Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 5:12 AM UTC
Sweet Succubus
This artful mind of mine colors the white, And lightens up the dark upon my page, Hidden within my since-birth hueless sight, Getting much more volume with every age. This artful mind of mine colors the ears, Which is a way right to the soul and heart, Who's shielding it away from all the fears, Making them strong, by manifested art. This artful mind of mine is like a saint, A flawless light of Truth, helping the poor, By offering them a radiant paint, Not touched by evils, but from within the core. Today I came to a truthful conclusion: This artful mind of mine, is my solution.
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Aug 5, 2021
Aug 5, 2021 at 12:42 PM UTC
The Artful Mind
I am falling Carded wool and eiderdown Muted hues in the resonant ghost of you My words drift Shadow soft before the deluge Of an angry sky I pray for rain Even though I cower under cover of your grace Myriad tears from heaven broken Etch the epitaph and rune stones Twist the light to brazen Blanched in acid Your brilliance blinds me Sunlight spilled on fallow ground I am soaked to the marrow Weathered and weary An the abyss whispers ever closer Embrace the profane till the flesh burns ashen *Nati sumus solus et nos solus perire Deo autem non est sine interiori lumine You follow me sombrous through the maelstrom Trade my hueless soul For the ecstasy of light **In raptu lumine vestit me *we are born alone and we die alone Without God there is no internal light **Clothe me in the ecstasy of light TL Boehm 11/13/2012
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Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 6:30 PM UTC
Fade To Gray
The hollow night awakens As I breathe the monochrome. It will all be over soon I say, All I need to do is have the will To wait for only a little while, The morning will surely come. But I wonder, Will it be my last? Will my heart be frozen in time? There is nothing to cut this silence. All which surrounds me is as dull As the edge of the overused blade of life. The horror thickens as even the last Piece of whiteness turns to black. I feel as though I'm drowning in mud, It fills my lungs and I lose myself With each passing moment.
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Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 6:10 PM UTC
Hueless...
TEUHTLILLI [aside]             The unknown guests which call me to the east             Are such a hoax-like sighting as may lend             To superstition credence; rumors, weight.             I fear some rash infection has arrived.             Reports pour in of towers on the waves,             Maneuvered by a spectral race of men,             The truth of which I must submit to test.             And so it goes: The fleet of hueless troops             Approaches from the seashore as I speak.             Now, after weeks of waiting in the sticks,             At last, my first glimpse of these lily-skins.             Gods grant that they behave.                           Enter CORTÉS, ALVARADO, SANDOVAL, AGUILAR. AGUILAR                                              Behold, Cortés,             Your foremost model of a Mexican. TEUHTLILLI             Hail, friends of Mexico! Which is your chief?                                          Enter MALINALLI. CORTÉS             Well, Aguilar? AGUILAR                        He speaks a nonsense tongue.             We’re too far north. I can no longer help. TEUHTLILLI             I ask again: Where is your leader, friends? MALINALLI [aside]             (Now, silly girl, or never.) [indicating Cortés] This is he. TEUHTLILLI             What’s this? A mediating concubine? AGUILAR             You speak his language, girl, as well as mine? CORTÉS             What, will this slave girl double-cross us all? MALINALLI             Our humble chieftain greets your emperor             And many times does kiss those regal hands. TEUHTLILLI             That’s well. AGUILAR                That’s well! CORTÉS                                   This all seems to be well. AGUILAR             Rejoice, Cortés! This maid is double-tongued.             She’ll translate his words into my Chontal-             From him to her, from her to me, to you. CORTÉS             Then let us test these true but tedious links. MALINALLI      You were saying, sir? TEUHTLILLI      How many braves trail in your train? MALINALLI       How many warriors tread in your wake? AGUILAR          How many soldiers shadow you? CORTÉS           Five thousand. AGUILAR          Uh, five thousand. MALINALLI       They’ve a thousand, sir. TEUHTLILLI             I’ll see your thousand and I’ll raise you two.             [to a servant] Deploy two thousand men to build them huts,             [aside] But crammed with warlocks, witch doctors, and spies.                                                                                                     Exit a servant. AGUILAR             This works well. CORTÉS                           Thus the fragile chain is forged.             Friend, you must look upon our advent here             Not with unease, but as a world of good.
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Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 9:27 PM UTC
The Floral War 2:7:1-41
TEUHTLILLI [aside]             The unknown guests which call me to the east             Are such a hoax-like sighting as may lend             To superstition credence; rumors, weight.             I fear some rash infection has arrived.             Reports pour in of towers on the waves,             Maneuvered by a spectral race of men,             The truth of which I must submit to test.             And so it goes: The fleet of hueless troops             Approaches from the seashore as I speak.             Now, after weeks of waiting in the sticks,             At last, my first glimpse of these lily-skins.             Gods grant that they behave.                           Enter CORTÉS, ALVARADO, SANDOVAL, AGUILAR. AGUILAR                                              Behold, Cortés,             Your foremost model of a Mexican. TEUHTLILLI             Hail, friends of Mexico! Which is your chief?                                          Enter MALINALLI. CORTÉS             Well, Aguilar? AGUILAR                        He speaks a nonsense tongue.             We’re too far north. I can no longer help. TEUHTLILLI             I ask again: Where is your leader, friends? MALINALLI [aside]             (Now, silly girl, or never.) [indicating Cortés] This is he. TEUHTLILLI             What’s this? A mediating concubine? AGUILAR             You speak his language, girl, as well as mine? CORTÉS             What, will this slave girl double-cross us all? MALINALLI             Our humble chieftain greets your emperor             And many times does kiss those regal hands. TEUHTLILLI             That’s well. AGUILAR                That’s well! CORTÉS                                   This all seems to be well. AGUILAR             Rejoice, Cortés! This maid is double-tongued.             She’ll translate his words into my Chontal-             From him to her, from her to me, to you. CORTÉS             Then let us test these true but tedious links. MALINALLI      You were saying, sir? TEUHTLILLI      How many braves trail in your train? MALINALLI       How many warriors tread in your wake? AGUILAR          How many soldiers shadow you? CORTÉS           Five thousand. AGUILAR          Uh, five thousand. MALINALLI       They’ve a thousand, sir. TEUHTLILLI             I’ll see your thousand and I’ll raise you two.             [to a servant] Deploy two thousand men to build them huts,             [aside] But crammed with warlocks, witch doctors, and spies.                                                                                                     Exit a servant. AGUILAR             This works well. CORTÉS                           Thus the fragile chain is forged.             Friend, you must look upon our advent here             Not with unease, but as a world of good.
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63
He's hueless But the brightest I don't know how bright he is But what i know His flaw is only hued But still I just saw the hueless part
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Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 11:32 AM UTC
Find
Starless sky and crestfallen clouds has been weeping for days. Gale as bleak as a sad symphony passing through every now and then. As the rain echoes in her hueless room, she lays still with no  purpose. Under the comforter, under dressed. Coziest dreams, waiting to be dreamt. Her cluttered mind slowly unraveling as the wrathful sky kept on bellowing. As each thoughts withdrew one by one, She slowly felt like drifting away. Tranquilizing rhythm of rain- Natures lullaby.
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Oct 9, 2024
Oct 9, 2024 at 1:25 PM UTC
A monsoon night