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"impenetrable" poems
When I too long have looked upon your face, Wherein for me a brightness unobscured Save by the mists of brightness has its place, And terrible beauty not to be endured, I turn away reluctant from your light, And stand irresolute, a mind undone, A silly, dazzled thing deprived of sight From having looked too long upon the sun. Then is my daily life a narrow room In which a little while, uncertainly, Surrounded by impenetrable gloom, Among familiar things grown strange to me Making my way, I pause, and feel, and hark, Till I become accustomed to the dark.
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18.6k
When I Too Long Have Looked Upon Your Face
I am lonely, not lonely the choice up to now has been mine I will slip away (at will) into the recesses of small shops of empty rooms or quiet spaces to avoid her touch or his gaze or their judgement our subconscious desires. But all swallowed up deep in the belly of fog, of smoke a vast, impenetrable night sky suddenly the all-encompassing fear grips me washes over so suddenly I realize I have not lived at all that I am suddenly (forcibly) the only one left. Down a long, winding road that trudges on endlessly into the fading silhouette of trees and broken sidelines dim headlights I am lonely, not lonely.
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Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
I am lonely, not lonely.
Dear beautiful evergreen rooted down in the field strongly upholding itself like it has an impenetrable shield The one that has experienced blazing summers and freezing winters not only seen warfare but watched it from the center winds blew it west and east but it never went left or right had blood on its leaves but never got into a fight Dear beautiful evergreen That stands there all yearlong keep your roots rooted and continue to be strong
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Dec 13, 2019
Dec 13, 2019 at 10:20 AM UTC
Beautiful Evergreen
Sucede que me canso de ser hombre. Sucede que entro en las sastrerías y en los cines marchito, impenetrable, como un cisne de fieltro navegando en un agua de origen y ceniza. El olor de las peluquerías me hace llorar a gritos. Sólo quiero un descanso de piedras o de lana, sólo quiero no ver establecimientos ni jardines, ni mercaderías, ni anteojos, ni ascensores. Sucede que me canso de mis pies y mis uñas y mi pelo y mi sombra. Sucede que me canso de ser hombre. Sin embargo sería delicioso asustar a un notario con un lirio cortado o dar muerte a una monja con un golpe de oreja. Sería bello ir por las calles con un cuchillo verde y dando gritos hasta morir de frío. No quiero seguir siendo raíz en las tinieblas, vacilante, extendido, tiritando de sueño, hacia abajo, en las tripas mojadas de la tierra, absorbiendo y pensando, comiendo cada día. No quiero para mí tantas desgracias. No quiero continuar de raíz y de tumba, de subterráneo solo, de bodega con muertos, aterido, muriéndome de pena. Por eso el día lunes arde como el petróleo cuando me ve llegar con mi cara de cárcel, y aúlla en su transcurso como una rueda herida, y da pasos de sangre caliente hacia la noche. Y me empuja a ciertos rincones, a ciertas casas húmedas, a hospitales donde los huesos salen por la ventana, a ciertas zapaterías con olor a vinagre, a calles espantosas como grietas. Hay pájaros de color de azufre y horribles intestinos colgando de las puertas de las casas que odio, hay dentaduras olvidadas en una cafetera, hay espejos que debieran haber llorado de vergüenza y espanto, hay paraguas en todas partes, y venenos, y ombligos. Yo paseo con calma, con ojos, con zapatos, con furia, con olvido, paso, cruzo oficinas y tiendas de ortopedia, y patios donde hay ropas colgadas de un alambre: calzoncillos, toallas y camisas que lloran lentas lágrimas sucias.
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Walking around
Sucede que me canso de ser hombre. Sucede que entro en las sastrerías y en los cines marchito, impenetrable, como un cisne de fieltro navegando en un agua de origen y ceniza. El olor de las peluquerías me hace llorar a gritos. Sólo quiero un descanso de piedras o de lana, sólo quiero no ver establecimientos ni jardines, ni mercaderías, ni anteojos, ni ascensores. Sucede que me canso de mis pies y mis uñas y mi pelo y mi sombra. Sucede que me canso de ser hombre. Sin embargo sería delicioso asustar a un notario con un lirio cortado o dar muerte a una monja con un golpe de oreja. Sería bello ir por las calles con un cuchillo verde y dando gritos hasta morir de frío. No quiero seguir siendo raíz en las tinieblas, vacilante, extendido, tiritando de sueño, hacia abajo, en las tripas mojadas de la tierra, absorbiendo y pensando, comiendo cada día. No quiero para mí tantas desgracias. No quiero continuar de raíz y de tumba, de subterráneo solo, de bodega con muertos, aterido, muriéndome de pena. Por eso el día lunes arde como el petróleo cuando me ve llegar con mi cara de cárcel, y aúlla en su transcurso como una rueda herida, y da pasos de sangre caliente hacia la noche. Y me empuja a ciertos rincones, a ciertas casas húmedas, a hospitales donde los huesos salen por la ventana, a ciertas zapaterías con olor a vinagre, a calles espantosas como grietas. Hay pájaros de color de azufre y horribles intestinos colgando de las puertas de las casas que odio, hay dentaduras olvidadas en una cafetera, hay espejos que debieran haber llorado de vergüenza y espanto, hay paraguas en todas partes, y venenos, y ombligos. Yo paseo con calma, con ojos, con zapatos, con furia, con olvido, paso, cruzo oficinas y tiendas de ortopedia, y patios donde hay ropas colgadas de un alambre: calzoncillos, toallas y camisas que lloran lentas lágrimas sucias.
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45
there is a distance between us more than distance something not a wall not impenetrable a fence a security fence easy enough for our words our thoughts to pass through   easy enough to breach from time to time   to allow access to our innermost feelings but so easy to reinforce too easy when things get tough when doubts arise when protection seems more important than communication
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Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 3:16 PM UTC
fence *
The blunt surface and wooden ***** Confined within impenetrable walls However reverb dangerously. Numbers reappeared to disorientate me. It was the lion I sought advice from For a dove that had been travelling with a rose With a weight as heavy as its wings Against the torrent of winds and sky. I counted the time as if I were a clock. Gently did it leave while I was not looking, Its music turned down by long fingers That lightly grazed the glasses Like tracing back the steps that I at first hastened. Never again will I see with my lashes curled by   Its own Evening Dew. I only pray that the silver soldier marches Next to me with armor close to my chest Close to my eyes so no gaze could ever penetrate.
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Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
Thorns
This stoney patch of impenetrable gound our relationship
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Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 3:31 AM UTC
Cactus
Spartan shield wall, impenetrable & fortified Persian soldiers, dying by the thousand Spears pointed outward, catching flesh & blood Persian soldiers, dying by the thousand Sun blotted out by Persian arrows Persian archers, killing them all Spartan soldiers, fight to the last Persian archers, killing them all Spartans all fallen, not one left alive Persian soldiers turn back home Spartans left immortalized, final stand Persian soldiers turn back home Spartans, three hundred strong Spartans, still standing tall
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Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 6:02 PM UTC
300
the people whose job is to understand the multiverse can't figure this world out rid·dle                      ˈridl/noun: riddle; plural noun:   riddles 1.                                 | a question or statement intentionally           phrased so as to require ingenuity     in ascertaining its answer or meaning,                typically presented as a game; a person, event,   or fact that is difficult   to understand or explain. "the riddle of her death" [puz·zle ˈpəzəl/verb: puzzle; 3rd person present: puzzles; past tense: puzzled; past participle: puzzled; gerund or present participle:                                              puzzling 1.                          cause (someone) to feel confused because              they cannot understand or make sense of something: "one remark he made puzzled me" synonyms: perplex, confuse, bewilder,        bemuse, baffle, mystify, confound;         faze, stump, beat, discombobulate "her decision puzzled me" perplexed, confused, bewildered,        bemused, baffled, mystified, confounded,                              nonplussed, at a loss, at sea;              flummoxed, stumped, fazed, clueless,              discombobulated "a puzzled look on her face" baffling, perplexing, bewildering, confusing, complicated, unclear, mysterious, enigmatic, ambiguous, obscure, abstruse, unfathomable, incomprehensible, impenetrable, cryptic "his explanation was rather puzzling" antonyms: clear think hard about something difficult                    to understand or explain; "she was still puzzling over this problem                      when she reached the office"      | [      ] think hard about, mull over, muse over, ponder, contemplate,                                      meditate on, consider, deliberate on, chew over,                     wonder about "she puzzled over the problem"   solve or understand something by thinking hard; synonyms:                       work out, understand,    comprehend, sort out, reason out, solve, make sense of,    make head(s) or tail(s) of, unravel, decipher; informal:                figure out "she tried to puzzle out what he meant" noun: puzzle; plural noun: puzzles 1. [                 ], [           ] (                 ); a game, toy, or problem designed     to test ingenuity or knowledge; short for jigsaw puzzle                    (see jigsaw) a person or thing that is difficult to understand or explain; an enigma: "the meaning of this poem will always be a paradox" synonyms: enigma, mystery, paradox,        conundrum, poser, riddle, problem, quandary;                      "the poem has always been a puzzle"   late 16th century (as a verb): of unknown origin: synonyms: puzzle, conundrum, brainteaser, problem,       unsolved problem, question, poser, enigma,                        quandary; informal:       stumper "an answer to the riddle"                    verb/archaic verb: riddle; 3rd person present: riddles; past tense: riddled; past participle: riddled;          gerund or present participle: riddling 1.             speak in or pose riddles. "he who knows not how to riddle" solve or explain (a riddle) to (someone). "riddle me this then" Origin Old English rǣdels, rǣdelse ‘opinion, conjecture, riddle’;   related to Dutch raadsel,    German Rätsel,      to read
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Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 12:19 AM UTC
1. [Linear Z]
the people whose job is to understand the multiverse can't figure this world out rid·dle                      ˈridl/noun: riddle; plural noun:   riddles 1.                                 | a question or statement intentionally           phrased so as to require ingenuity     in ascertaining its answer or meaning,                typically presented as a game; a person, event,   or fact that is difficult   to understand or explain. "the riddle of her death" [puz·zle ˈpəzəl/verb: puzzle; 3rd person present: puzzles; past tense: puzzled; past participle: puzzled; gerund or present participle:                                              puzzling 1.                          cause (someone) to feel confused because              they cannot understand or make sense of something: "one remark he made puzzled me" synonyms: perplex, confuse, bewilder,        bemuse, baffle, mystify, confound;         faze, stump, beat, discombobulate "her decision puzzled me" perplexed, confused, bewildered,        bemused, baffled, mystified, confounded,                              nonplussed, at a loss, at sea;              flummoxed, stumped, fazed, clueless,              discombobulated "a puzzled look on her face" baffling, perplexing, bewildering, confusing, complicated, unclear, mysterious, enigmatic, ambiguous, obscure, abstruse, unfathomable, incomprehensible, impenetrable, cryptic "his explanation was rather puzzling" antonyms: clear think hard about something difficult                    to understand or explain; "she was still puzzling over this problem                      when she reached the office"      | [      ] think hard about, mull over, muse over, ponder, contemplate,                                      meditate on, consider, deliberate on, chew over,                     wonder about "she puzzled over the problem"   solve or understand something by thinking hard; synonyms:                       work out, understand,    comprehend, sort out, reason out, solve, make sense of,    make head(s) or tail(s) of, unravel, decipher; informal:                figure out "she tried to puzzle out what he meant" noun: puzzle; plural noun: puzzles 1. [                 ], [           ] (                 ); a game, toy, or problem designed     to test ingenuity or knowledge; short for jigsaw puzzle                    (see jigsaw) a person or thing that is difficult to understand or explain; an enigma: "the meaning of this poem will always be a paradox" synonyms: enigma, mystery, paradox,        conundrum, poser, riddle, problem, quandary;                      "the poem has always been a puzzle"   late 16th century (as a verb): of unknown origin: synonyms: puzzle, conundrum, brainteaser, problem,       unsolved problem, question, poser, enigma,                        quandary; informal:       stumper "an answer to the riddle"                    verb/archaic verb: riddle; 3rd person present: riddles; past tense: riddled; past participle: riddled;          gerund or present participle: riddling 1.             speak in or pose riddles. "he who knows not how to riddle" solve or explain (a riddle) to (someone). "riddle me this then" Origin Old English rǣdels, rǣdelse ‘opinion, conjecture, riddle’;   related to Dutch raadsel,    German Rätsel,      to read
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74
The sky is painted a pale orange and blue I'm just out there thinking of you No way, no how to ever break through But with a paddle in hand you know that's untrue A wannigan, a duffle, a heavy deluth An impenetrable vessel, a wood canvas canoe Unexplored nature, a spirit renewed All with friends, an unstoppable crew No need to run, no need to prove Rise with the sun, incredible views There's always a portage, skeg on the boots But who can stop walking our unfenced zoo We do what we do, there to feel, be, and move
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Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 2:59 PM UTC
Canoe Tripping
Over on the crescent wing The bitter gales bring waves of rain: Listen. Frozen windows sing. Enraptured by the searing pain Like pestilence in hurricane. Buildings rise up to the halls Impenetrable planet-bane As summer lost, and spring withal. Then the writhing storm-clouds bring A storm of ice and wind again: The sun rears up, but sets during. And past the steel-laden plane Silver orbs first wax, then wane Then plaster to the mighty wall Midnight buses, lane-by-lane, Of nature not, but city fool. Ascended like a spiteful King The whispers rise, then sink in shame No sound is here, no, not a thing. Soaking in like liquor-stains The buildings survey their domain Not city-life, nor life at all; They wander in the pouring rain Where love is lost beneath the sprawl. Tears and laughter, much the same All are whispers, doomed to fall. Dystopia without a name: Not so distant after all.
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Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC
Distant Dystopia
there's ethical idealism: where ethics is discussed... there's ethical relativism: where ethics is practised... there's ethical realism... where ethics is quantified as an improbability; and then there's ethical absolutism, where we supposedly "progress" - in this scenario are the laws of physics actually suspended: whereby oculus qua oculus is replaced - a loss of an eye is "relative" to 10 years in a cage... really?! ethics is ideal, realistic, absolute or relative... we're encouraged to live in "realistic relativism"... never in an absolute realism, since realistic relativism only compares itself to ideal absolutism... and nothing more... ever watched that film secrets in their eyes? you ever wonder what ethical idealism is to the ethnical consequence that can absorb a realistic libra? i can only believe in ethical absolutism, ethical relativism is horrid to me... relativism adorns idealism, absolutism adorns realism... a life sentence is worse than a death sentence, whether justified or not, prison is sadism, but at least ****** is simply ****** a space-time intact, a ****** penalty is not inhumane, nor a ouija board... it's time for time, space for space, the actual punishment comes with the missing adrenaline rush of the unexpected reception of the wielded weapon... either send these jealous plonkers to siberia, or sentence them to death, for you are no more than they are, nay, you are more... you're akin to cats toying, playing a sadistic games with half-mutilated mice... this is why i abhor ethical relativism of the crucifix... hence my belief in ethical absolutism in the paragraph of realism, which is perfected, by being exacted, and never, ever, being leisurely discussed, on a farcical palette with a grimace to boot: ******* a lemon; compensating the horrors within minutes, is never compensated with ordeals that last years... which is why i find the death penalty an act of authentic humanity, and not this quasi-humanitarian act of pardon, ******* hypocrites - i abhor the caged rat more than the rat gladly nibbling on a dead corpse... at least there was passion in the ****** waiting for death penalty is like killing a vermin with poison, disposing them with nonchalantly... the wise maxim states: ledo ferrum sicut id est calidi - strike the iron while it's hot... death is the dawn-broker - a new tomorrow promise - left intact, the fermenting process of ethical dynamism takes over... then again, the supposedly "evolved" preferred moral relativism to moral absolutism, because there was no moral realism to speak of, since morality could only be talked about in ideal terms of the supposedly so, supposedly fashioned via: it ought to never happen to me... and then it might, and then: oops... argument sinks like a wet fatty **** into shambles of keeping up with the presupposed pillar of argument being "impenetrable"; hey, genius, back to the blackboard!
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Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 8:50 PM UTC
4 tiers of ethics / oculus qua oculus
there's ethical idealism: where ethics is discussed... there's ethical relativism: where ethics is practised... there's ethical realism... where ethics is quantified as an improbability; and then there's ethical absolutism, where we supposedly "progress" - in this scenario are the laws of physics actually suspended: whereby oculus qua oculus is replaced - a loss of an eye is "relative" to 10 years in a cage... really?! ethics is ideal, realistic, absolute or relative... we're encouraged to live in "realistic relativism"... never in an absolute realism, since realistic relativism only compares itself to ideal absolutism... and nothing more... ever watched that film secrets in their eyes? you ever wonder what ethical idealism is to the ethnical consequence that can absorb a realistic libra? i can only believe in ethical absolutism, ethical relativism is horrid to me... relativism adorns idealism, absolutism adorns realism... a life sentence is worse than a death sentence, whether justified or not, prison is sadism, but at least ****** is simply ****** a space-time intact, a ****** penalty is not inhumane, nor a ouija board... it's time for time, space for space, the actual punishment comes with the missing adrenaline rush of the unexpected reception of the wielded weapon... either send these jealous plonkers to siberia, or sentence them to death, for you are no more than they are, nay, you are more... you're akin to cats toying, playing a sadistic games with half-mutilated mice... this is why i abhor ethical relativism of the crucifix... hence my belief in ethical absolutism in the paragraph of realism, which is perfected, by being exacted, and never, ever, being leisurely discussed, on a farcical palette with a grimace to boot: ******* a lemon; compensating the horrors within minutes, is never compensated with ordeals that last years... which is why i find the death penalty an act of authentic humanity, and not this quasi-humanitarian act of pardon, ******* hypocrites - i abhor the caged rat more than the rat gladly nibbling on a dead corpse... at least there was passion in the ****** waiting for death penalty is like killing a vermin with poison, disposing them with nonchalantly... the wise maxim states: ledo ferrum sicut id est calidi - strike the iron while it's hot... death is the dawn-broker - a new tomorrow promise - left intact, the fermenting process of ethical dynamism takes over... then again, the supposedly "evolved" preferred moral relativism to moral absolutism, because there was no moral realism to speak of, since morality could only be talked about in ideal terms of the supposedly so, supposedly fashioned via: it ought to never happen to me... and then it might, and then: oops... argument sinks like a wet fatty **** into shambles of keeping up with the presupposed pillar of argument being "impenetrable"; hey, genius, back to the blackboard!
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108
You know what? I will fight Because it's difficult Because the lows are so ******* low Because the night air chills my damp shirtsleeves Because sometimes the walls are impenetrable Because I do it the hard way But really because He always says it back
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Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 6:07 AM UTC
Olive
You worth more than a thousand golden crowns and continent wide silks and all the brighter, wilting stars in the dark and had you pulled the universe to you, it will surely crawl under your thigh as a machination made only for you. And you worth more than the ten thousand horses that I had slain and I pulled them onto your sheets as whispery faeries gnawed onto its skin onto its slippery vein gory, but lovely all the same. Alas, you worth more than another ten thousand of them running hooves clattered across the impenetrable glass of auroral dome and I saw you rode on another ten thousand that had not deserve you- as you deserved gold and stars and all the greater fury of this land, not treachery and I. Gold was the color of your ruse and your words deify scorching stars into bloom and you reek of rust — the finest yellow there was.
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Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 10:34 PM UTC
Garrison
In white water lilies ; Miniature specks of radiant light Swim in clear water of minerals, nestled by honey brown soil of nourishing elements Engulfed by inner petals of delicate but impenetrable comfort Transported by wise ripples along a translucent rectangle Eager to drop off the water-fall edge of the plane To fall as rain and unto its chosen carrier Of whom shall be called its mother Waiting to start developing physically after the essence of the mother's choice is fused with her very own jewel The essence belonging to whom it will call father.
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Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 12:58 AM UTC
Atma
It’s the kind of subtle trickle That turns the asphalt into a glassy mirror Ripples, ripples, ripples Over it like a black pond The silver lining of each little droplet Streaking the sky with shades of gray The streetlights cast an amber glow Upon the shimmering mist Hiss, hiss, hiss Against your stinging flesh Turn your face up towards the darkened sky Let the rainfall and streetlights wash away the dust The dust of the souls you carry on your lips and cheeks Etched into your back and palms Their burdens may cause you aches and pains Let the rainfall and streetlights wash them away Rainfall and streetlights Rainfall and streetlights An urban confessional Where the sky leans in to listen As every perfect drop of water hits your skin It’s the sound of a cleansing Only you can comprehend And although the hope of purity may have been swept away by the wind of unfixable mistakes It’s still the belief alone in possible redemption That keeps you from relenting to temptation Drink up the tears of the sky, child You are forgiven You were always forgiven After all Paths were made to be strayed from Straight lines are mundane, they all look the same And never give a little boy glass when you haven’t taught him how to grasp what’s right in front of him When he drops it It’s a dangerous job Picking up the sharp shattered pieces Do not make him do it all alone Yes, inevitably you will cut yourself On the broken shards Crimson teardrops If they tumble from you Do not distrust your calluses You made them through your own hard work and suffering But they can only do so much for you Remember your skin is a shell not impenetrable armor So it’s best to avoid the things you know will cut unnecessarily deep Bleeding is just another way your body assures you that your heart is still beating Looking up from the gutter the universe awaits you child Do you not realize what’s at your fingertips? Infinity So don’t give in just yet Let the rainfall and streetlights heal you Drip drop, drip drop Let them bathe you in warmth Radiating Let the rainfall and streetlights take you away To a better place Wherever that may be
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Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
Rainfall and Streetlights
It’s the kind of subtle trickle That turns the asphalt into a glassy mirror Ripples, ripples, ripples Over it like a black pond The silver lining of each little droplet Streaking the sky with shades of gray The streetlights cast an amber glow Upon the shimmering mist Hiss, hiss, hiss Against your stinging flesh Turn your face up towards the darkened sky Let the rainfall and streetlights wash away the dust The dust of the souls you carry on your lips and cheeks Etched into your back and palms Their burdens may cause you aches and pains Let the rainfall and streetlights wash them away Rainfall and streetlights Rainfall and streetlights An urban confessional Where the sky leans in to listen As every perfect drop of water hits your skin It’s the sound of a cleansing Only you can comprehend And although the hope of purity may have been swept away by the wind of unfixable mistakes It’s still the belief alone in possible redemption That keeps you from relenting to temptation Drink up the tears of the sky, child You are forgiven You were always forgiven After all Paths were made to be strayed from Straight lines are mundane, they all look the same And never give a little boy glass when you haven’t taught him how to grasp what’s right in front of him When he drops it It’s a dangerous job Picking up the sharp shattered pieces Do not make him do it all alone Yes, inevitably you will cut yourself On the broken shards Crimson teardrops If they tumble from you Do not distrust your calluses You made them through your own hard work and suffering But they can only do so much for you Remember your skin is a shell not impenetrable armor So it’s best to avoid the things you know will cut unnecessarily deep Bleeding is just another way your body assures you that your heart is still beating Looking up from the gutter the universe awaits you child Do you not realize what’s at your fingertips? Infinity So don’t give in just yet Let the rainfall and streetlights heal you Drip drop, drip drop Let them bathe you in warmth Radiating Let the rainfall and streetlights take you away To a better place Wherever that may be
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60
Underwater light faceted in the enormous aquamarine set in bronzed stones. A pale green mist lifts from the pool follows the lantern lit pathways back to the dark and shady places edging to the olive grove and the blackness of the wych elms and the limes enclosing the garden like impenetrable walls. Here, on a very warm night with a honeysuckle, jasmine breeze heady, rich and almost liquid You can stand on the sun-filled stones stretch and hold the heart-breaking sweetness of the night.
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Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
The Summer Garden
What we hear We don’t understand their plight As we are more afraid of them than they of us Thank God they are over there and not here Their ***** little disease will ruin us more than religion Thank God they are over there and not here Some impenetrable God-Shield has protected us from the pestilence We must guard against those who would bring them in our bubble What I feel I understand their dilemma   And love them And want to hold them And thank God, for they will find peace someday I wish more would help and nurse them If only I had the skill to care And do more than pray
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Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 10:36 AM UTC
Ebola
The sun is shining and moonbeams glisten through the air. Moon, not sun. While the sun shone and incinerated the sloshing intestines of vengeful beasts; the gentle and forgiving moon projected from their eyes and caught the ****** maw of a starving deer. Suitcases of leather stacked behind us filled with spruce, pine, elm, oak, cherry. Ready for induction t o our paperless society which consumes the forests of Hippolyta and Antiope mercilessly. Burning every leaf then forgetting to feel because nothing mattered. Everything never mattered. Facts are lie, opinion is truth. “No one is nothing” they shriek to the heavens striving to be limitless and scorning morality. Embrace death and all its glory. Life, while full of happiness and gorgeous splendor, refuses to acknowledge the magnitude of the word. The thing. Falling and reading and lines and circles and explosions and whimpers and screams. Agony suffered silently, alone; never understood because how could it? What could totally encompass the raging fire that devours the veins and burns from the inside out kept in place by the impenetrable flesh that glints in the forgiving moonlight. A hostile exterior that smiles, waves, laughs on cue to disguise the raging storm fighting its way through from inside. The shell which shrinks from the moonbeam and into the harsh sunlight that filters beneath the floating clouds.
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Jun 16, 2018
Jun 16, 2018 at 10:18 AM UTC
Mother Moon
V. Ethereal Maybe being drunk is the closest I will ever get to zero gravity-- to walking on the moon. My fingers curled around the neck of a liquor bottle,   I wander to my bedroom window, as a tipsy weightlessness settles amongst my limbs (and my thoughts). Swaying slightly, I part the curtains and, in my intoxicated stupor, search for Polaris in the night sky, point to it, press a clumsy hand to the glass, convince myself that I have captured the star, and all the omniscient power it possesses, beneath my finger tips. Star light, {lips pant-- inebriated, heavy} star bright, {my breath appears a catalyst as the window pane glazes over in an impenetrable paroxysm of fog} first star I see tonight, {I take a swig, raise the bottle-- a toast to the cosmos} I wish I may, {Lashes meet in silent matrimony} I wish I might, {Behind closed, desperate eyes, ribbons of colour dance towards me in a disoriented jig} have this wish I wish tonight-- to be obliterated by the very galaxy that birthed these grieving bones and this tumultuous heart. Because only then-- as the Gods paint the Night with the innards of my soul, acrylic purples churning against the blackness-- will I become what I have always dreamed of becoming: Lovely. Ethereal.
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Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 11:57 AM UTC
I, Ophelia (Part Five--Ethereal)
When everyone falls i shall rise. When clouds of darkness cover everything our light will slice a glimmer of hope, a sign of all that is good in this world. When all defences are broken my wings become an impenetrable fortress. I'll never bend, never falter, never give up. I shall be your savior, your liberator. A promise was given, i won't let you fall, i won't let you fail. If challenges come to your tail, i'll make them know that you're not frail. Slow it might come but success will be high, don't be disheartened because it's slow as snail. I am just a soul, a broken soul looking for a place. The place it belongs...
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Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 6:05 PM UTC
Silent guardian
Engulfed by light / eyes open wide/ my pupil turns white/   it’s nothing to stand in the impenetrable heat. / The sun stands before you/ with all of your turmoils / your mind is my glory hole !/ The powerful gust from a huge fan i trust/ was disguised as an infinite beam as it lifts me/ dematerialize the old grains of me/ The wind spreads her love unconditionally /DESERT JASPER / what morals are you after? In the face of sadism the expression of laughter.
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Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 1:51 PM UTC
DESERT JASPER, ALIVE WITH THE MORALS YOU'RE AFTER
*And then I realized That we cut ourselves open Not to release the pain But to release the beauty The beauty that we can't see in ourselves So we go looking deep inside Seeking happiness Yet all we find is that we are blind We cannot see the beauty Without the looking glass That we all assume someone else has But alas People all around us have pieces Some return their share Having taken good care of it But others don't return it at all Thus the hollowness we feel And the need to go searching What we don't know Is that the people who care Will give you pieces of theirs And in turn Create an impenetrable bond of love And trust That when they need it most You will do as they have done And help them see the beauty they have been blind to.* -CsR
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Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 7:46 AM UTC
Blind
pretty words for pretty girls *courageous caress of a send key pressed, after practicing   speechless up to the assumed, up to assured point of perfect, flawlessness, visible in each invisible breath, pauses full of poignant stories unspoken but eye cleared visible for seeing the future* pretty words for pretty girls *intuition incorporates superstition, unending, intending infatuated moon gazing, but not pagan worshiping, no it is love worshiping your hiding cave places are moon apertures dark spots, impenetrable to my eye’s naked telescoping, but heartbeats spring my unharnessed love poems to you me and millions whisper in full certainty of our lost but beloved presences, moon stored for us, my darling dares the light shine upon my bay, here to me, our path, a moonlight waving hand provides on many nights, a clear direction to follow, pseudo-thrills of continence that my vision uncovers, but my body knows is but a poor substitute* pretty words for pretty girls *my disease has a diagnosis. your body attacked, your body reacts, defeats the infector, remembering the next time that disease comes round how it got beat prior and how to do it again* so how come I’m falling love once more?*
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Aug 3, 2019
Aug 3, 2019 at 5:20 PM UTC
pretty words for pretty girls