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Sabila Siddiqui Feb 2018
A masterpiece of intricate mosaic
A beauty underlied with chaos
She lets them see,
What she wants them to see.
her hair swayed in the wind,
delicate and gentle

her eyes were like beads of honey,
just like amber and chestnut

her spirit soared like an eagle,
graceful yet powerful

she was like 'summer linen',
woven intricately;
flying in a field of sunflowers
CK Baker Mar 2017
lady craighead played the blues
on a stand-up samick
in the ***** room
along side the parsons project
and squabbling dogs
and night moves

stairs creek
up the mezzanine trek
wool sheets slide
on finished floors
little angels
play late into the seventh
(a closing match nearing
the midnight hour)

croaking toads and cicada
sing in the blue moon
musty smells and mothballs
settle deep in the vault
the kettle boils
and cat coils
as the pump house rolls
its heavy drawl

the red phone rings
and bird clock sings
(behind the ruddy stall)
a sleeman variation of the ruy lopez
employed heartily
by the incomparable master jack
marble toast burning
wringer wash churning
chris craft running
near the old carp canoe

rooster calls
and west wind squalls
rustle through the porch screen door
chicken *** pies
and rogue flies linger
a rocker chair placed
near the  sepia face
(softened by the intricate frame)

donkey in tow
(with a fastened ***)
maggie in her dreams
of green tambourines
the nocturnes
reflections
and whispering gospel bells

tractors pull on
the grinder stone
horses lay still
in the mid-day sun
a trump card is fingered
at the furnace click
(crosswords and puzzles are next!)
while the sparrow
and that **** rabid fox
are drowning
deep in castles well
Andrew Jun 2017
I'm so grateful I could die
And then I'd be the Grateful Dead
For every Touch of Grey
You erase
And paint intricate beauty I cannot equivocate
The enigma of your mind
Matches the confusion in my heart
What's the point of talking to someone
if you know what they're thinking?
I enjoy the intense haze
Of your rearranging maze
It's complexity fascinates me

Some of my favorite moments are when
I laugh hysterically as the tears fall down
And you're there
To hit my waterfall with your lightning
My emotions get so charged
As you pump electricity into my current
Making you the conductor
On this lifelong train ride
That's definitely been through some valleys and tunnels
But as we continue to scale this mountain
Negative thoughts can creep in
I wonder if you're disgusted by me
Or what you'd call me if you hated me
And as the tears fall down
I look to the heavens
And laugh hysterically
Thanking God I don't have to live in a world like that
I'm so ******* grateful
FlipThePoet Nov 2018
We assignment felonies, who got no melody
It be a blessing to breathe but mans can't find the remedy.
School work got us incubated, well tubed in
Hospitalize for ages.
Penned in these cages
A constant grind on the daily.

Once a man emancipate
8 to 5 is gonna hit him with a straight.
From a frying pan to the fire
He's been stuck in a sticky state.
******* in a system that's meant for retire
That's what he gonna inspire.

Beware to those who tryna finesse the system
Life is gonna hit them with an intricate plot.
If you can't Euro-step them in quick time
It gonna be raps, just watch.
If you don't get it, then you never will
danna22081 Jul 5
It might be said:

I slowly, yet eventually
Peered through the keyhole of a three-dimensional world.
How I saw all three? I’m not quite sure,
But all contained elements more distinct from the other,
So distinct, I don’t remember them all.

The keyhole, nothing more
Than a piece of rusted, brittle metal
Coiled, and carved… intricated into the miniscule
Dents which hold the answer to these curves
Contained within my nerves… ready to be twisted.

This room… these dimensions,
I can no longer class them under one area.
They were consumed by emotions, by values,
Purposefully, and tortuously designated,
But I just can’t… remember.

I can’t remember them, but these dimensions were meant for me.
They must have been, because I hold the key
To unlock the hole requiring the simplest
Twist of a persistent wrist,
But where is this hole I so consistently yearn for?
How nice is it for some people to symbolically express their thoughts through their writing? And many readers often interpret them differently.
gleck Feb 5
The pleasant lingering smell of rose hips,
feels almost healing,
as we tread through the garden -
together barefoot and vulnerable.

I won’t shy away from the prickly green grass,
then in the same way,
let me tickle you with my stubble as we laugh -
together joyful and crude.

One has to be careful not to lose themselves completely
to rub your intricate fingerprint away into another's skin in patterns,
because although the body feels heavy when weak kneed -
the weight of another’s soul is too much to bear alongside your own.

I won’t hold your head underwater in the fresh lake
then in the same way,
let me breathe when we lay by its side -
together entangled and safe.

The passing time made you my involuntary complex,
feels nearly daunting
as I adore this so shamelessly -
us together - balanced and in love.
zebra Aug 2018
the witches
they don't take no ****

feminists with a wand
made from a femur
wrapped in ***** hair,
fingernails, and spit

no
not good little passive girls
although amused by a good spanking
for laughs that titillate
from a red wicked dicked old man
with slippery fireballs
like a spicy cherry pepper
that slurps filths coves
through a black tongue
and open-mawed bite

******'s queens
oiled torsos and bond fires
drenched ornaments for laughing snakes
that spread like spider webs
while the whips flash licks
hells tender blood kiss

insatiable prayers
and
******* rituals
mixed like bones in broth
with intricate sigils and saliva red
menstruum her holy sacrament
that shapeshift crones into young girls prancing
and bind water to stones

her spell can crack your skull
like a mules kick
and melt your eyes
like nuclear skies

no
the witches
they don't take no ****
A series
of short puffs
from a rekindled
cigarette expertly put out
on the half
reminds you of your
fastidiousness now you
feel like **** as you look
at the wreckage site
of a desk that
is your own doing
       That is what you do.

While your ego
floats like the unmelted
coffee you put in cold water
Hardly dissolvable
to anything normal
missing anything temporal
You lash out once more
waging a war
with a nation
of thoughts
You kick the furniture
to send the dust flying
       That is what you do.

You attempt to sheathe
an intricate wound
patterned on your
knuckle, as detailed as the
dystopia of your
own human agenda that
can be trivialized by just
"I haven't been myself lately"
when somebody asks
because you're afraid
they might see
you find it hard to belong
to their society
Slowly, the dust resorts to settle
on the bedroom floor
       And so do you.
Carter Ginter Dec 2013
Take one
Take two
Calling on the liars
And all the world is our stage.
Oh how sick you say
No its much worse
That no one sees through
Our twisted little games.
So intricate
So in depth
So often
With such ease.
Some call it acting
Others deception
It keeps us safe
And is worth more than you believe.
ryn Sep 2014
Mythical Bird, show me your secret
Hatch forth from your shell
Plumage of orange and scarlet
Emerge glorious from whence you dwell

Fiery Bird, you must reveal
Your astounding, magical ways
Where from these lives you steal
Forever reincarnating well into your days

Aflamed Bird, you must teach
How you reinvent yourself anew
With no help within reach
Without aid, effortlessly you flew

Majestic Bird, take me in
Blanket me with your wing
Listen and acknowledge my sins
With all your wisdom and heart could bring

Magical Bird, will you impart?
What knowledge you keep
Only then, I may start
To make my way out from the deep

Enchanted Bird, you have to help
I'm desperate to rise like you
**** your head and hear my yelps
Of all the things I'm trying to undo

Celestial Bird, if only you could know
Intricate workings of this unfounded fixation
Why I seem to always wallow
An eternal target of sorrow's attention

Imaginary Bird, will you demonstrate
Your amazing fantastical flight
Dipping, gliding, in the air you gyrate
Aggressive dance with gravity you fight

Mystical Bird, won't you display
For unworthy eyes, would you give?
Seemingly easy, aloft you stay
Even when you know you'd die before you'd live

Wondrous Bird, oh how perfect you are
I am in awe, I am swooning
How you become one with the stars
Making the best of the short time you're living

Secretive Bird, is it time?
Reducing yourself down to ashes
Ready to absolve your stint of crimes
Reborn perfect, free from previous gashes

Ensorcelled Bird, please don't retreat
Back into your familiar cocoon
I'm uncertain if again we'd meet
Just afraid I might be gone too soon
Danny Wolf Feb 2017
Here lies all the pieces of my existence
stolen from ignorance,
taken from my hands without question.
Seldom did I even notice I was being depleted.
My hands left to sieves,
even what I wanted to hold onto slipped through.
I created my new existence from the ground up,
debris collected,
what fell through the sieve I swept into bones and skin.
I am made intricate like spider webs,
like little fingers ripping heads -
when did I lose my ability to discern the truth?
I made it hard to find myself.
A couple times swallowed poison I thought was medicine-
takes a while to extract from the bloodstream.
Followed me sometimes into the depths of my dreams,
shape shifting into snakes
and endless seas.
Woke up those nights drowning
in the depths of my own fear infused lies.
I learned to weave quite intricately,
presenting beauty that is a trap for death.
Learned to live without mind on my shoulders,
ripped up my own head
and plucked out each limb.
Funny, though,
how weaving intricate webs taught me
to put myself back together again-
weaving beauty into the veins,
trapping poisoned blood
and killing the pain.
Draw out the demons,
and only truth will remain.
Annelyra Jan 2015
it is said
that the delicate flutter
of a butterfly's wing
vibrates the Earth
to its core
and transforms
everything

it is also said
that instead
the thoughtless footfalls
of every heavy human
are inevitable
inexorable cartography
splashed across
the landscape in
thin invisible lines
intertwining
and full of divine
meaning

imagine
the apathetic
apocalyptic
apoplectic
chaos
the uproar
the heartache
the blood spilled
the madness

imagine
the wings torn off butterflies
that don't shake the earth
and the stamping of feet
over unmarked land
if it turns out this is all
just an intricate
beautiful
accident.
Jayantee Khare Dec 2017

Mind can be a Spider ...

Swinging between the things
Spinning a web of threads
Elastic thin intricate
To hunt food for self
Or end up eating itself...

~One can be a think tank
Stuck, but no outcome

Or

Mind can be a Silkworm as well..

Confined in darkness
Spinning a cocoon of fibres
Strong lustrous fine
To be weaved into
Useful valuable fabric...

~One can be a writer
weaving words twined with thoughts
into beautiful write

Just a thought to ponder upon....
Spenser Bennett May 2016
In all my mourning glad smiles and little intricate sadness I find my sapphires once embedded too deep to see under the shimmering façade of worldly ugliness.

And the crafts they go down so smooth and the world slides into the inky night with twinkle lights dancing behind and before my so lonely eyes.

Those foolish stars sing ghoulish hymns of forgiveness through the empty air.
And we ourselves are empty but so convinced in our self aggrandizing thoughts of our sufficiency that we ignore their soft whispering voices.

How could we be empty when we tell ourselves that our hearts our souls our thoughts are the only real things we know? But it's all empty.
You and me and everything in between.

It's all flickering twinkle lights that fade before the sun burns too bright.
Egaeus Thompson Dec 2012
Here.
Attempting to write something
To match your eyes.

Something that will make you see things
The way I see things.

Noticing.
Every mark.
Torn by  fences climbed
To get away from those who didn't take your hand
And fly.
They left intricate laddered rips in your jeans,
Though you try to hide the fact that you know,
That I know that is the case.

We play childish games of denial
Because all romance is to be transported to a time when we were innocent.

Back to a place where ‘I love you’ is what your parents said
When all the screaming, laughter
And the innocence of loud noises stop
And is replaced by silence.

‘I love you’ made that warm feeling
Growing and radiating out
Eventually finding the tips of your fingers and ends of your toes
And bursting out,
Moving through to the next person you touch.


Contrary to popular practice,
‘I love you’ is not just three words to be said
When you are trying to break the awkward silences
Left between two people who have simply gotten used to each other.



I love red licorice.
It gives me a warm feeling of sugary goodness.
Though artificial,
In the times when the weight of the world is the weight of your sheets
That lay a top of your body
Which you tell yourself over and over and over
It is not good enough for that person
Who gives you the inner warmth
That a campfire gives your shins;
I find that artificial red licorice warmth is good enough.
And sometimes good enough is the best we can get.

Here.
In the hope that the words that must be said
Stream from ink to page.
I hope my hand moves so fast over the page
That smoke starts flowing and my words mean something...



But no words come.
No letters.
No ink scratches the page.





*I just want you to see the way I do.
ryn Aug 2014
Sanctuary is here; hiding in plain sight
Bedimmed beings step into the light
Stumble upon you may; hear us you might
All is welcome; no guard dogs that bite

Step inside, matters not armed or unarmed
Come as you are; steady or alarmed
Sip and drink from our collective fountains
Rest your eyes on our self painted mountains

Come on close and meet us all
Under shady trees or beyond the knoll
Some of us don masks or hide behind names
Some come naked but we're all one and the same

See our lives, spun from heavy layered bales
Woven intricate telling fantastic tales
Weavings we let fly, to catch each other's fables and stories
We admire them for what they are and the seed each carries

Be aware... Should you not understand
We may bear similar signatures but wear different brands
We, the people, trade in euphemisms
Broken sentences and long forgotten idioms

We are weavers, dreamers and scribes
Pouring here the outside world we imbibe
We are unguarded hearts speaking in metaphoric tongues
We provide safe haven for bruised souls with punctured lungs

So welcome traveler, shed your load
You might like it here in our coveted abode
Revel in the monochromatic sights you see
Where freedom of thought is revered in this here Sanctuary...
Let me write you a symphony.
Let my words ring with
The intricate sound of my beating heart.
While my soul resonates in your ears,
As my music fills you up
Til’ you overflow.

No shame if you hear my soliloquy.
I’ll confess my love to the gods in the sky,
And they will lift me up-
Your hands in mine,
And return the piece of you
That thought I had lost forever

My tears will attest for my love.
My cry will be my shield
Against the truth-
And the pain will linger
On the tips of my fingers
As I gently close my eyes.

Let my song reach the top of the heavens,
And the last note shake the gates of hell
May my aria give solace to the lost souls
So that you may find me
Somewhere between C major
And eternity.
Ma Cherie Mar 2017
I have so many musings
my hands they are complaining,
cuz I can't get them all right,
an so quickly jot them down,

An I feel that I'm connected,
to all my friends and my dear neighbors
an all that I can hear is just is that sound!

Of sweet snowflakes as they're falling,
in the silence sweet n pure,
an so softly as I hear them,
touch the ground,

An soon I'll imagine,
oh a winter wonderland,
in a covering in all you see around,

Those lovely floating wisps,
are so intricate-amazing
those parachuting sprites,
here they abound!

If you ever catch one close up,
well you really really oughta,
cuz the labyrinthine in sight
it will astound!

They are happy little ships afloat,
with an octagonal shape,
landing on all  life,
once sorely browned,

Every child and adult,
is now looking up in awe,
as there smiles turning up ,
instead of frowned!

I thought that I was lost,
an I'd never get to see,

but in poetry it seems-
that  I am found!

Ma Cherie © 2017
Happy poetry! Yeah!?  Lol ; ) ❤❤❤ hope you are all well!
Dlusionl13 Apr 2018
Maybe it's the space between the future and past
A multiple choice question with options between right and wrong
Or a pendulum swinging between joy and sorrow
I think it's the book we write our lyrics on
Maybe our circumstances decide if it must be a happy or a tragic song

Maybe it's the dimension existing with the duality of reality and imagination
A beautiful muffler woven with intricate threads of truths and lies
Or the transition of night from dusk to dawn colouring the canvas of skies between sunset and sunrise
I think it is the journey of a cloud from vapours to rain
Maybe our fate decides if it must be a shade of black or purely white
Mom
Trying to find solace in the suburbs
when everything seemed superb
like that cookie-cutter,
picket fence,
faux fur mentality
they instill at the start

Just an infant with scars
He reached for her baby bump,
Then slammed it hard
onto the stairwell
She fell, wept, and held
That lil princess
and prayed she'd never have the same hell

All grown up. Alive and well
shes got different demons
different intricate cells
It's been said
she is special      she is awake
But, in many ways
She is the same

As that ANGEL who carried her 23 years ago
That's debt I'll always owe
A gift I'll never own
Carefully Constructed
and Creatively Sewn
shoved a soul into that shell
That'll one day guide her back home


Shes got her mamas tough, yet gentle heart
her smile, brevity and love for art..
she can write her *** off
like her
the wrote and the writ

Yet she's plagued by guilt
every ******* minute
GUILT for the life that she'd been given
GUILT  for each exhale emitted
She prays that God will have the sense
to go back in time and hit OMIT
(on all chapters even close to the word 'human'
there's GUILT for feeling guilty even more for despising your own )
"I must've slipped through the gate, admit it!
Or recruit another for your mission
regretfully, I must solicit
that I'm not fit for this position


I'm no hero
I'm the villain
If ya look close you'll see
I spit venom"
Mama walks in
smiles and says
"WE.
ARE.
WOMEN!"
"Betta recognize and
quit your *******'
as of today, you are living..
You are loved
You are safe
You are ******* winning

WARRIOR,
CREATOR,
QUEEN,
GODDESS,
INCARNATE..
We are strength & We are the faith
never to be broken
but we still stay brave


The Legend wont start
or end with you
Its a fight stretched out
through  time
You will understand soon
No matter how much you ask
"WHY"
It wont stop circumstance
wont stop lies
wont stop suffering
and will NEVER compromise

Your in the way of the wave, child
This.....  the secret to life
When in the way of the wave...
its only a matter of time
S0 if youre searching for solace
Will you promise
To memorize this line
Written for and dedicated to my mother.. we've always been at odds. This entire scenario I wrote is hypothetical, but for some reason it comforts me to make up pep talks from her and this is my favorite one Ive come up with so far. So wherever you are mom...thank you for everything..this one is just for you.
ryn Oct 2014
Are we fated to dance to the same tune alone in our separate universes?
Is it true that we must silently keep to our preordained curses?

Are we destined to swoon at the beauty of the moon at differing time slots?
Why were we given invisible ink to connect our lives' dots?

Must it be that our lives revolve around the whims of the sun?
Isn't it ludicrous that we won't see the intricate webs we've spun?

Was it the plan that we exist only in our minds and hearts?
Why do we have to tolerate starting when the other's ending and end at the other's starts?

Has it been written that we can only afford to infinitely chase each others heartbeats?
Was it foretold that we're trapped in a singular notion that never really fits?

Is the game set as such that we can never emerge as winners?
How is it that the ocean was made out of our tears that flowed from rivers?

Why is it that with our entirety we believe but do not know?
What's the reason for the path made clear but we're too afraid to go?

What does it entail to possess the very least but yet you covet it the most?
How do you pride yourself in something but not allowed to boast?

Why do we frantically scramble to piece together jagged shards?
Can't we just play this blasted deck of lousy cards?

Is it destiny or cruelty to have found then lost?
Why does it seem absurd that we have all its takes but can't afford the cost?

Is it the thoughts that **** or the emotions that debilitate?
Is it the challenges we take on or the curveballs we anticipate?

Why bother when sheer folly is all it seems to be?
Why tarry when the heart is free and the mind is ready?

Is it ridiculous to have found myself still very bothered?
Is it wrong to question fate that had always bound us tethered?

Why is the good always bad and the bad becomes worse?
Is it true that the harder we fight, the deeper we immerse?

Has life turned to be but sad little rhetorics?
Are we but performers on stages coerced into theatrics?

Is it time for me to surface this one-man submarine?
Will it be so that if I do, my journey would then begin...?
A host of rhetorical questions from my older writes...

"Surface this one-man submarine"  isn't mine... It's Brandon Boyd's.
Taken off Incubus' " Love Hurts"
Carter Ginter Sep 2017
My body sinks smoothly
Into the curves of your mattress
As I wait for you to crawl in beside me
Among the clouds we shift repeatedly
Apparently soft beds don’t promote cuddling

Netflix plays in the background
Some standup comedy for background noise
But we are not here to chill

The lining of your bra creeps from beneath your crop top
Black lace against your pale skin
And my fingertips can’t help but graze the intricate designs
And trace the edges along your soft skin

While I always think you’re ****
I am not trying to ****** you
I simply cannot get over
How someone can be so perfect
And how so many ****** humans
Could look at you
and touch you
Hear you
and connect with you
Yet somehow couldn’t love you.

But I’m also glad they didn’t
Because I could do this forever.
Rama Krsna Apr 21
daughter of the ocean
i feel
your pursed lips
place an antiseptic kiss
drawing all humanity
into incessant action
through an intricate web
of pure illusion
that only you
so masterly weave

oh great goddess
the lotus-eyed one
primal cause of all
those cupid arrows of yours
launched from
a bow of flowers
pierce my tender heart


© 2019
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