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Make them wonder,
& Seek
the illusionary
at their
Bus Poet Stop May 2015
Thedermatologist demands a pre-summer scan of my visual delights fully magnified.

Peering into places where no one else has ever peered, even me, reminds me that this is a potentially "disruptive" process.

Eye don't know what his eyes have seen.  

He works in silence pin punctuated by the occasional mmmm or throat clearing rumble.

Snappy removal of neutrally colored gloves signify conclusion, he opines as follows:

"Were you aware," he inquires, "that the lines, the furrows on a your forehead correspond to the life your have lead?"

"You have three, deep deep tracks, and that's a fact."

Yes, eye know,
and each one is a tree ring notation
of my existence.

Each a different year,
each a different moment fearful,
a death and a birth,
a passing, a regaining.

No, not children or parents,

Markers of our lives are the
birth and death of our illusionary,
our revelation minutes, that measure and scribe
what dug those furrows is now officially,
no more.

Until we start anew,
a different Pretense,
a channel commenced to commemorate.

Living the dream, they say,
aren't we all, eye think, and so inform him.

The doctor did not bill for this
Johnnie Woods Aug 2018
‌‌  ‌‌‌  ‌

My name is going to vanish into nothingness one day.
"Johnnie Woods" who wrote a few poems, a cluster of atoms that developed illusionary consciousness. And now this consciousness starts to deny itself. I'm writing this text, I'm thinking 'bout what I'm going to write, I'm thinking about me thinking about me going to write it. And I'm writing it all.
My poems are pointless and my words and thougts are abstract.
All poems are pointless. This website is pointless. Cries and sadness and emotions are pointless. Everything is pointless.
Don't go this way if you wan't to retain your sanity. Atoms. Atoms.
Umi Mar 2018
Antimatter mirroring our existance on the pathway of a reverse world
Imagine it, time stands still, halts without a will to  continue its flow if it were to possess one to begin with, and everything is but fragile,
Illusionary moon, shine on in this distorted realm in which not even gravity is reliable or even trustworthy at this point, up is down here,
An imperishable night caught under a spell of eternity, uninterrupted
Everlasting, permanently shining, the fake moons appearance is clear,
Unremitting, sweetly told as a if it was a lie, the rumours of this world spread more likely like a disease through the ancient, young earth,
A line parallel drawn to ours, a dimension coexisting without sense,
It appears to be fragile, like a newborn child, the smallest disturbance would mostlikely ruin it's balance, bring tremor upon it wretchedly,
But where that life sparkles as then fades, two dimensions surely would overlap, of course, maybe it will be the world you inhabit, no?
In the realm of the dead, a loitering, lingering darkness thins the borders of reality and illusion, causing them to exist as one, now with the same heart and soul, a fantasy heaven which became reality,
After all, that place is only temporary,one surely could even call it a;
Short living eternity,

~ Umi
Umi Mar 2018
Sleep, dearest creature of the night, you who adores the shining moon, I said to myself as the music began to echo through the room
A nyctophile blood ******* devil, gifted black demonic wings alike a bat when it flies, strengh beyond reason and a tongue full of sick lies,
Yet a ray of sun may be lethal to you, burning you away as if you were paper caught in a firestorm, an inferno of heat, vaporized at last,
Life force relies in blood, impurities of constant change I need since I have already passed away theoretically I am most likely already dead
A music box plays for me alone, transient melodies from the recurring memories of a brighter, vivid past, to which I am are unable to return to,
Ahh, phantoms, a nuisance of the mortal life I have escaped alike the shooting stars over a clear, living,traveling, dark blue night sky
Have I toiled well, hard or long to achieve heaven, yet have become stuck as the devils tool in a illusionary world with no end ?
Flowing water seals me away, I cannot cross when it rains, and need a polite, kind invitement to intrude and cause wicked bloodshed
Sleep, so I may can be innocent until the sun has sunken down to rest,
Slumber,  the world of dreams is free from weaknesses to purification,
With great magic, comes a devils recitation, engaging in a distant dream far beyond the grasp of my crimson, blood drenched hands,
Unable to advance,  shadows of those who have forgotten the fear of darkness spread and creep around, hidden in nights embrace
Empty consciousness I am attracted like a fluttering butterfly to the gentle reflected light by the full moon in its fullest sensation,
Raise this song of love and paint it in a moonlit night for me,
Dance with me, until we aren't part of this world any longer, dear,
Sounds melt into silence, structure forms within chains of destiny,
Even if tomorrow were never to come, I couldn't care less,
For now, just let me rest my eyes

~ Umi
Samantha Cunha Oct 2018
knowing has not begun
& Darling
Spring has
not sprung
So embody the presence
Of the winter sun

Let go
Of illusionary
Instead embrace
The eb
& the flow

Let the

Let your heart strings
For they will come
together again

Patience my love,
be less sharp with the tongue
For spring
has yet
to sprung
Raziel Sep 2018
My brother whispers goodbye with one last glimpse,
and I haven't seen him ever since,
My sister succumbs to the pressure of life,
and she felt the caress of our mothers favorite knife,
My father watched his family twist,
So he found his own way to sink into merciful bliss,
My mother fears being ignored,
So she sang a song, tuned to a heartbreaking chord,
And my friends won't look away,
But I know they want to be free someday,
Of the pressure of their homes,
Look left, look right, we're all alone,
And we take refuge in our sanctuary,
Even if it is illusionary, even if it's just temporary,
Just to reveal our hidden thoughts,
To finally talk about everything we lost,
To maybe discover next times price,
To come here maybe once or twice,
But in the end, we'll always return home,
Because despite everything that everyone knows,
Home will always be home.
HeWhoExplores Dec 2018
All the sad faces, so quickly they appear
Those eyes they peer; like voyeurs of the night
As time approaches dusk, and light becomes dark
They disembark
From Upper York Street-
To the strongholds of the the Shore Road
Glimpsing in, people stare back
From the Spides of the north
To the elderly and beyond
Coughing and shuffling, moaning and groaning;
Oh! What a concert!
Amadeus would be a proud man indeed
As it slogs by I catch a fleeting glimpse
My face, appearing ever so different; sadder
It must be illusionary, right? Perhaps
Standing there, just thinking to myself
Will I ever see these people again?
Samantha Cunha Nov 2018
Vices of  
my men
me time
time again
time with them
dims my shine
what is time?
an illusionary
man made
of when
to resign
幽玄 Jan 24
my search for truth has only but elucidated to me that this time alive in its entirety comes to show:

I see everyone’s sense of shame,
maybe they see mine,
their ugliness spills out only sometimes or all together,
It is in how subtle it becomes,
that the focal point magnifies
encumbered by uncomfortableness,
spewing out over all that which was illusionary, once cultivated from the very mold that now causes them to frown in misery,
misplaced do they feel,
in those such rich life forms,
so real,
projects my own shame,
for what I am,
for what I am to become,
the demon smiling from within every now and then:

it’s either now or never to accept the watchful essence lying deep in your depths that goes unnoticed until one day it arrives too late.
for as late as my mind is, early was I always for your misery.

She lived inside of her mind
where she perfected the skills of
witchcraft and creating potions
considering it was much
more extravagant

...Than living in the outside world

Battling the ordinary
feeling no emotion.

Do not judge what you
can not understand
committing sins and
becoming her demons
was not part of
what she had planned.

If you had
paid a
to the dark
of her
you would have
met the
who ****** away
her soul
performing satanic
It is no wonder why
she sat
in her
fighting with

She understood the
ways in which
she had broken
& why you might
had given up
each layer of
  s c a t t e r e d

She was selfish
and impulsive
for her own
desire to
she was sick
for dancing
at the expense
of others

Always wanting more.
Stephanie Sep 2018
she knew it, smirks, so she applaud.
lame. that was a fallacy
herself is the mistery

Have you seen her in the clarity of dripping scarlet riverflows?

she's still the secrecy of midnight that no one ever knows

Even hallowing hazy fog of cold could made us blinded

in this knotted ropes of white lies, dead end

Lowfully dare to follow her illusionary footsteps in waters

fraud. she's the one whose following your shady runners
she is the vulture and the prey;
the moth and the flame;
the wicked and the good;
the water and the blood;

Peace in your mind, her sojourn.

she's the only one who smiled in the midst of mourn

Mellow greetings when she entered the juvenile dreams

when the night visits, it'll be silent screams



she is an oxymoron but more of a paradox.
: a whole beautiful jigsaw puzzle who's made to be in thousand pieces...

PS. i leave clues
PPS. read with your heart and soul
PPPS. anyone who reads this, know that I love you. Because only those who really love me will want to read this crap right 'til the end.
PPPPS. thank you.
SassyJ Jul 6
I dreamt of him again
at the mist of the Saturday dew
he crept in my withins
as a phantom untouchable
the illusionary comprehension
at the depth of my heart
he awakens every neuron
submerging all neutrons
to that ultimate insanity
yet we have dodged the currents
and narrated through all ways untold
above the current of the seashores
beyond the fathomable impossibilities
and in the dreams he undresses me
to the core where my bossoms bear  
endear me to the get lost in you
deep within the unrelative wedge
see me dear one as our wave summit
Peaking to that primal eruption
as we make love underneath the sun
Love you my future one. Yet I see you even in my dreams.
Ghostfeather Mar 15
Am I fine?
I feel I am, I know I'm not.
Is anything mine?
My love, my child, the cold, the hot.

Their power's pure, but weak.
I fear it won't be enough
when I soon reach the peak,
that awaits me; on top, the last bed,
and the rivers beneath the cliff,
flowing silently in red...

Help me, for ****'s sake, do you hear me?
Help your god ****** self!
If worse than you can become better, why can't you find your own **** help?

This... existence, a myriad of suffering,
with occasional bursts of illusionary light,
perhaps I am far too stupid.
Perhaps I am meant to dissolve into the night.
SassyJ Sep 2018
It took me a decade of toil
years of experience and expertise
to learn that men are happy scoring
ecstatic when he bags and trashes
that short win he has not earned
Sometimes as women we steam
trimmed with seams of emotion
awaiting to open hearts unreserved
Yet he don’t want this vulnerability
he wants to be ignored and uncared for
denied and kept at the deepest ledge
for when you give yourself easily
he will devalue your inner-self
blocking and tantalising from afar
Men are still immature within
afraid of closeness,scared of love
afraid of the emotions,scared to trust
and when he chases,he is fast as a cheetah
preying closer and closer to his price
and when he lies, he sugar coats the facts
so that he creates an illusionary promise
Yet deep within he is like a baby
strained with automatic reflexes
unable to make an emotional dialogue
on how to make the woman really happy....
Lesson learnt over the years....

— The End —