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M Oct 2014
I am fire in love with ice
fire to me is exhausting, ice is full of vice
but it is pure, and I chase eternally for something
that could only put me out
I am claimed by desire for the cold, constantly crushing
what is is that I am, it is a sad, forgettable art
when the beat of your veins are drumming
at an erratic pace to someone who looks at you like a science experiment
their highest love is to be set apart
they thrive on the silliness of sentiment
your last will and testament holds evident to your thought
of them when you last close your eyes, you are never quite as elegant
as the coordination of the fractals and the elements
your battle will be consistently fought
while they watch, aloof, shattering and shattering your heart.
and ice is forever lonely
it thinks fire is foolish, devout
to a Lord that knows nothing but only
the sins of his people, whose minds sell out
as a conductor of bad decisions
illogicalities and blurred precisions
and whose souls have nothing but room for doubt.
I am fire in love with ice,
for other fire tires, and I seek to change something,
to make a mark on the world, and tell
my story over the glaciers, a glorious pulsating hell
but the ice is no place for a fire
for the ice does not want to melt.
Daniel Long Dec 2018
Stunned still! In spotlights
of narrow-minded illogicalities?

Your poisonous intentions
inflicted with sharpened utters of disrespect!

Of what pure breed
have you been endowed?

Leave useless judgments to your own misguidance
and me to tend my dreams!
A poem about former friends of mine.
My poetry/short story website: www.gothicsurrealism.com
Steph Portuguez Jan 2020
You blossomed rose, exotic with spreaded roots of thick gold,  just so far striking to the sun, you such a delightful mold.I, the caterpillar with enough amount of rolls. In excrement, the humanoids waste, I float. It's been so long, I haven't been able to drown, misled tragedy or not, I don't require to bloom, birth is overvalued but do I deserve to lose, or could I choke and get loose?


As most stories start, a major encounter was about to untie. The foolish timorous pair of flakes shook hands, "let's go lay on the desolated train rails," said the one with no plain aim. Shall we permit the sun to fry our flesh? Its asperity will darken our perspective trail.


A rest on the grass was precious for both dorks, they speculate how the moon was staged and the stars played betrayed. They deliberate a cosmic revolution has to be displayed. In the center of that field we pictured our own selves, we experiment the blissful act of creating a righteous sky, the carnival didn't even start, we were freed from the carousel of collateral harm. Just as we thought, reveries have no taxes to be feed and you and I we'll keep being fools as everyone thinks.


The day after tomorrow we'll reload our emotions of scoria, you tender companion to my dysphoria. As the music acts like drugs, piercing our veins and lungs. A good samaritan helped to exit the rage, an eccentric well danced craze.


Like black and white, there was she and I. She was bright as exuberant light, I was dark as a gnarly lamb. A convoluted attraction, a well designed pentagram, a blue but so blissful reaction. Will we ever be able to adapt?


We played jesters but so fools, an admirable klutzy ineptitude, a chosen existence of pure doom, a relative delirium yet so afraid to immerse into the strange, with curtains of normality we'll be standardly draped. People blessed the legend of the so called grey, their grins hide the stiff in their cozy graves.


Our night turned blue but the film gave us the smirk and cringe that we hoped to, our dialogue consisted in soul ache, unraveling the galaxies in which we'll never arrive, I dread. I explained the illogicalities that hid in the best part of my brain, "death, death, death what we must do while we still have a breath?" I raved, as a frustrated swine becoming a ham. So will it be valuable at the end? End of session, is this the real pleasure? Anyways, we farted and continued to rest.


As Peter I racked you with despair, we must leave, the train will not wait. As Wendy you refused to a fatal fail, I stood there with a floppy shiver and quivering legs. "I'm awaiting for the next train," she murmured with a teary stare. I didn't let my impulses aggravate her, I didn't inquire a "why," her gaze for a lane so bright, her ambition to overcome the loner side,
I had not the gut to smear that scenery of a chance. We both let go, mainly me, sure I needed her more, I tossed myself on the cabinet seat and controlled the sobbing of such a dramatic aesthetically scene. I have no imagery of her, visually blurred, not a last moment to recollect, a suitable Goodnight for a tomorrow in doubt and a cautious railroad without a collision to be found.


So, like black and white, a smooth, pigmented grey, there was she and I. Time keeps forgetting to stop drawing lines, we've got sadder and with a perpetual sarcastic shadow, we now ride in separate donkeys to grow in our own ...or to  hollow is the term that  I'm looking for. A glimpse of a visit to recall that we were never alone.
Yenson Sep 2020
They queue to spar with the Best
hoping for a bit of glory to rub off on them
or just plan acknowledgement to lend some relevance
at least some bragging rights to show off to fellow minions
I touched the hem of his attention and courted his exalted notice
inferiority complex is deep and traumatic enough to defend stoutly
nothing takes away  self-loathing and underconfidence of ordinaries

They queue to **** and poke
in sanguine defense of glaring inadequacies
hate steaming in base vessels of counterfeited wares
unable to reach, unequipped to match refinement and class
what else but debasement, mockery to assuage banal beings pained
the uncouth fundamentals of the ignorant and dense minds take reins
kicking and trashing in destructive tantrums and in idoyne rages of saps

They queue to earn street cred
that badge of acceptance among soiled urbanites
where idiocies are sensibilities and delinquency is celebrated
and sane ambition is a curse while simpletons espouse illogicalities
piffle bravado lacking substance, grade one clowns in battle fatigues
lone coward apes a warrior provided a surround of fellow mates in tow
look and curse as a real man stands alone and has put you all to shame

— The End —