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"inundating" poems
it wasn’t chaotic. it was calm and serene, like the ocean. the soft pitter patter of the rain on the roof, and the cool air it brought. it was a sip of freshly brewed coffee, natural with no additives, whatsoever. the gut feeling of knowing where home was. and that is how you came into my life. the star that shines the brightest amongst the pitch black sky. it’s the white cloud that outshines all the gray and gloomy ones. the perfect fit of the last piece to the unfinished puzzle. it's the warm, fuzzy feeling of getting into bed early on a Friday night. and that is how it was when I started loving you. it’s like a deeply cut wound, one that’s inundating with crimson colored blood, having a tinge of maroon. it induces pain with every inbreathe and exhalation. it manages to have the appearance of a scar, yet it still feels so fresh like a bruise. and that is how it felt when you left. it was filled with haze and suffocation. the uncontrollable fast paced beat of your heart. Mona Lisa's enigmatic smile, one that is hardly understood by majority of the world. a bite of dark chocolate, bitter and sweet. and this is my survival.
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Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 5:56 PM UTC
four seasons of love
*She creeps quietly into the dim lights of the city inundating gentle delicate thoughts into a deluged gray haze, lingering vacantly in fragile minds, and drifts over towns like an overcast of curtains like a nebulous blanket for she leaves with an air of mystery on little silent cat feet*
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Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 6:23 AM UTC
Fog
resuming vogon poetry altering website logos pretending everyone cares playing "east hastings" asphyxiating well-nigh denouement depicting twitter status obfuscating coincident deletions translating from Sḵwx̱wú7mesh assuring Sḵwx̱wú7mesh exists painting skwiḵw's mother? decrying micropolitical maelstrom imbibing fireball fountain inundating lexical foofaraw crafting poetic wonders desiring other mediums remaining practically invisible ending internet-only depression drafting noetic blunders requesting astute clique blazing perilous trail aging ominous grisaille depicting kmart realism seeking darker groups increasing pre-weekend laughter appropriating communist symbols making lone chuckle offending worldwide communists colonizing hello poetry colonizing parallel universe relaxing e-migration policies пить чистую водку photographing abduction scene ¿losing consistent format? increasing bluebird insignia avoiding frivolous legalities striking astraphobic comments assuming near-universal automation lowering latent inhibition traversing oneiric plane laxwadding afebrile loodies wallscaping pitchsourced chthonicities closing one-star conveniences sharing alien-looking alphabet writing system downtimes
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Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
201509-w1
It had rained all night And drenched the land outright Leaving puddles and pools, Here, there and everywhere. But the morning saw The sun blazing ever more bright I watched the water Flowing silently away With no ostentation Along channels, furrows and waterways Cavities, crevices and culverts And through ditches and drains What little remained, Seeped down unnoticed Through innumerable pores unseen. As prisoners from narrow cells Suddenly released into boundless space Or troops from a garrison On a spurt of fresh attack The children shut indoors Came out in gangs To romp, jump and play. Unmindful of anything, They soon lost in a wave of giggles. But how sudden was the change! The sky over cast with dark clouds Fired out like a water cannon. Once more the rain, Cascaded down with greater vengeance Each drop weighing gallons And the silver needles pricking deep Making the children flee In directions all round Like autumn leaves Scattered by the wind! The rain continued to pour Inundating the low lying lands Oh! Mother Nature How erratic are your moods How unpredictable How like a child throwing tantrums And how quickly appeased!
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Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 5:36 AM UTC
On a Wet July Morn
The sky kept speaking in a dialect of grey, did stay overcast all through the day, like a new bride upset about her nuptials, right after it. "Could have been with some zest, I feel drowsy and totally lost" she repeatedly whispers, it  seemed . A vast net of haze fell, first on the skyscrapers standing in a row, pushing, jostling,fighting, it then descended slyly on to the tree tops adorned with garlands of flowers red, cream, or violet on their coiffures. They looked lost, at this turn of the story, unexpected. A helicopter, with tourists Criss -crossed the sky as if clueless, perhaps seeing sights in that light curious, who knows what they look for in a bad hair day like this? we could hardly guess! A stray bird appeared, as if from nowhere hastily retreated, sensing the prevailing mood. "We'll just stay put" she said "til the night would  rework the story board. perhaps with starlight " She bit hard on my upper arm, as if to exhibit her aggressive mood just once I loved it , she deftly made it erogenous. She is a tigress, forcefully kept in her den with a purpose, she slyly smiles imagining. When the wave of oily dark night advances inundating us, she is a promise, exquisite
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Oct 5, 2017
Oct 5, 2017 at 2:54 PM UTC
Caged Tigress
In the air I breathe there is you.   More than the tantalizing scent of your body as it sways to and fro It is your essence I inhale, your aura that I breathe I open my mouth so that I might drink in the mesmerizing colors that combine into the light of your soul I gulp you down like that first explosive burst of air after an underwater panic When you are near there is a richness to the air, a localized pocket of supercharged oxygen that serves to make you the center of reality The totality of your being flows throughout my shell deep within to the center of my self, inundating my soul with the unlimited potential and energy contained within your love
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Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 5:03 AM UTC
Rambling Writings #01
Remnants of firecrackers litter parkgrass, splitting seams once encasing them; exposed twine ribs attached, stretched out beneath shade like sunken reliquiae dashed against the earth, as freedom is, withered paper husks abound. What explosions in the sky were heard above the quietus of patient submission? Tracing the dotted white clouds to our horizon with thread and colored cloth, held breath until nighttime, expelling then -- as wind does each languishing puff of smoke-- from our lungs, sordid smells of Summer; vanquishing the past. Isolating each other, like memories on kodak prints we separately cling to that sleek filmy acquaintanceship of proximity and hue -- disavowed pariahs and hearts lit anew. Fused inside one sallow skull-box, which doubled once for holding shoes, we linger. Ideas, impulses and infringements on the eye, until-- once-- bound, unbroken, encased and unspoken, our ribs unwind with dew-- after, unstitching seams outlined from heaven and inundating visions with brightness we descend. Violent fumes of childhood intercede amidst our shaking fuses lit. --and BANG!
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Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 4:19 PM UTC
Third and Fifth of July
The speed of thoughts traveling along life’s treacherous curves trying to contemplate the next course of action images flashing, to enter then leave the peripheral only for moment, a second in endless time no longer complacent in the innocence of bystanders The conviction of minds set upon a road without a path to return refusing to yield to the simplest of distractions focus uncanny, to overcome then master all obstacles thus bringing to bear a force in self-control limitless in power, endurance, and perseverance The energy of souls self-perpetuating the fuel for sustenance striking the balance of the yin and the yang never tiring, to thrive on then learn from weaknesses like running water, able to mold to any environment adaptable no matter the mitigating circumstances The reason of words inundating the psychic to ponder meaning in the comprehension of the poet’s viewpoint endeavor not, instead seek significance inside for the gear remains in neutral, waiting on the shift license not required, just the courage to drive.
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Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 7:22 AM UTC
Full Throttle
I wanna be your soul at peace tranquility, gratifying the discontent with optimism, completely I wanna be your soul in pain anguish, suffering the life with tribulations, relentlessly I wanna be your soul with joy paradise, capturing the bliss with consideration, continuously I wanna be your soul in heat passion, inundating the fantasy with eroticism, imminently I wanna be your soul with hate antidote, conquering the disgust with devotion, endlessly I wanna be your soul at dawn witness, observing the beauty with admiration, unselfishly I wanna be, inside out, not the outside in I wanna be, feelings amp, not the quiet type I wanna be, love unleashed, not the thick-skinned men I wanna be, simply one, not the one-half hype I wanna be, realized dreams, not the wishful wind I wanna be, living the words, epitomizing love so effortlessly.
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Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 11:11 AM UTC
I Wanna Be
I once had my sweet little girl ask me... Daddy?           Yes dear? Is the little man in the snow-globe, is he happy? She looked up at me with bright blue eyes, eyes so deep they were bottomless oceans. I could stare into them forever. I took my rough, calloused hands that were sanded with age, into the gentle palm of her own. "How could I ever tell her?" he thought with a gaze so lovingly at her.   Clutching the snow-globe ever so tightly, she shook it twice so that light, beautiful snow-flakes gush in all directions, inundating the glass city.. I smiled, and told my darling:                                                                       Don't worry sweetheart,                            it is only trapped in a perfect world.                                 She didn't seem to understand.
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Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 8:52 AM UTC
Glass Walls
In the incandescence of this empyrean nocturnal rhapsody A remarkably rare yet, aureate creature appeared before me From nightfall until daybreak she smoothly crooned an infinite array Of enamorous symphonies to which I naturally could not abstain A subtle spark of ardency was cast upon my sauntering pneuma Inundating me into a catalepsy of which I zestfully fancied Her charisma suckered me in with ease, illuminating my euphoria Masquerading my pervasive mourning, cauterizing it to ashes Each lyric alleviates the suffering that I have so hazardously acquired Every note speaks to me in a language unknown to the community The tasteful euphonies that perspire, carefully assuage my heart I raised not a finger nor did I enunciate a single word or syllable Her musical prowess completely squandered me with passion Jauntily I danced to the cadence of the beat scouring my veins Ceaselessly I could bathe in the essence of her bubbling sound waves Never shall this finely crafted music pause, It shall remain on replay
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Aug 27, 2011
Aug 27, 2011 at 1:21 PM UTC
Sound Wave
Giving or not giving voice to the heretical words... Understanding that the true love is a scarification..... For being or not being.... True love inundating the conundrum Like that sacred river of longing, Sometimes flowing swiftly through landscapes Astounding the lurid heart..... The sound of silence passing... Passions galvanizing the wounds and painful mares for enduring... Trying to heal the injury... Flying gulls beneath the lower bow, touching the blue waters of the ocean..... Waves and sad memories dancing on the golden sand.... Shying away from the horizon line.... Vessels screaming and shouting their hearts out.... Swimming across the ocean of red burning coals, Searching for that golden threshold..... The colors spectrum giving the necessary senses to the lights of absolution, When their senses turn inward..... Gazing the mountain from the windowpane... From the indoor side of that rain-rinsed windowpane..... Sitting on that mountain and gazing at the stars.... Birds gliding across, like rainbow rising, spreading their wings, streaming.. Those birds flying in a variety of ways, ranging from gliding to soaring to flapping.... The crystalline steeping slopes of the mountain multi faces.... Being decorated with climbing ropes, heavenly as seen from above.... And the crystalline waters, steeping cliffs, hidden lakes and lush forests... A sign of a divine love... Understanding that love is like the Earth and the gravity, Inseparable..... Groans and moans leading to mortuaries.... Life being like walking in the middle of the park, Embracing the crouch air, Or embracing change by resisting the defensive crouch..... And going deep into the human system, feeling like being born again.... The smile on face painting an episode of the past, Engraving our hearts with golden debris, Like a golden pyramid, contracting pyramid..... Generating our consciousness and chasing away insanity.... Sounds of silence passing... Being like a blue ocean...
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Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 7:18 AM UTC
I’m your blue ocean
Giving or not giving voice to the heretical words... Understanding that the true love is a scarification..... For being or not being.... True love inundating the conundrum Like that sacred river of longing, Sometimes flowing swiftly through landscapes Astounding the lurid heart..... The sound of silence passing... Passions galvanizing the wounds and painful mares for enduring... Trying to heal the injury... Flying gulls beneath the lower bow, touching the blue waters of the ocean..... Waves and sad memories dancing on the golden sand.... Shying away from the horizon line.... Vessels screaming and shouting their hearts out.... Swimming across the ocean of red burning coals, Searching for that golden threshold..... The colors spectrum giving the necessary senses to the lights of absolution, When their senses turn inward..... Gazing the mountain from the windowpane... From the indoor side of that rain-rinsed windowpane..... Sitting on that mountain and gazing at the stars.... Birds gliding across, like rainbow rising, spreading their wings, streaming.. Those birds flying in a variety of ways, ranging from gliding to soaring to flapping.... The crystalline steeping slopes of the mountain multi faces.... Being decorated with climbing ropes, heavenly as seen from above.... And the crystalline waters, steeping cliffs, hidden lakes and lush forests... A sign of a divine love... Understanding that love is like the Earth and the gravity, Inseparable..... Groans and moans leading to mortuaries.... Life being like walking in the middle of the park, Embracing the crouch air, Or embracing change by resisting the defensive crouch..... And going deep into the human system, feeling like being born again.... The smile on face painting an episode of the past, Engraving our hearts with golden debris, Like a golden pyramid, contracting pyramid..... Generating our consciousness and chasing away insanity.... Sounds of silence passing... Being like a blue ocean...
Continue reading...
40
Skin on fire Eyes ablaze Sparks igniting scarlet in the night. Sins melted in lava The light hurts when you've been lost in the dark widen your gaze and find your path. This choatic menace is just another dire fervor. ethereal flames inundating your soul Ignite! oh ignite! From the smokey abyss I will rise. Tranquility found at the surface where the sun enlightens the blinded Destinies renewed Hearts imbued by the warmth of the Golden light shimmering above Inferno. tickling on your skin, blazing in your heart. See it glow, for it is passionate, it is undying. It is Inferno.
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Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 3:11 AM UTC
Inferno
Why the thought of an impending death Stubbornly clings to me from time to time As icicles hanging from the trees Sending chills up through every neuron I hear their empty rattle in my head As rabid dogs barking at nothing Though Shelley was full of praise And hailed Death and Sleep as brothers To me it is not so and will never be Not that I am afraid to die Nor my absence will shake the Earth out of its orbit But it makes my thoughts break into fragments And I find it hard to piece them together Even if I die, my children will live as before My husband might seek another partner Or might pass to a new celibate state They will never be benighted or tempest tossed And eventually my memory shall fade Fade away without a trace from all hearts As I walk through the winding road And the closer I come to the terminal From where there is no more treading And as time pulls the blind on my life When the curtain falls finally and my play ends I don’t want to leave this stage Nor want to lose my hold Of those hands I love and care There are gifts still to be opened And newer avenues to be explored Oh, I am in love with this world To be more true, with narcissistic ardor I am in love with myself I know how dangerous it is to be addicted to love So Death, carry me in my sleep, if you must Or sweep me away by an inundating tide Unawares into the ocean of Eternity Like a feather blown away by the winds!
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Apr 26, 2021
Apr 26, 2021 at 9:39 AM UTC
I Don't Want...... !
This amazing architecture of allure; awe-some to behold , from beneath bed upon beautiful bed of clouds, cotton-white, concrete-gray and crow-black, this dangerous density diligently damning my dainty existence; ever eliciting earnest and fevered fallacies of false pride to be fatally felled by this gigantic gale-mother, these gods of galactic proportions. Hold me, as I help myself hallucinate about heaven in hell, Innately inundating my lost innocence with it. Joyously joining in jovially joking about our jubilation in, Killing our Kudis and our Khaleesis in keeping with, Our love of labeling lust as love and losing ourselves to, Mankind's madness for maleficence. We manipulate our naive needs into necessities, neutralizing all notions Of obscenity, Obese in our omissions. Petulantly, we punish any probability of penance or pity. We will soon quiver and quake, while quail will fly in this beautiful quag, Resting reluctantly and resisting the requiem of the realm, That holds a sad semblance of the sky's seas. Traveler, your traveling is less than trash if you haven't traced This ubiquitous umbrella; untouched and untainted By the viscous vice that voraciously vitiates the viscera. Wait, weary world look up to the place that no words can describe, To the heavenly xystus that acts as a xylophonic xylem to our xerical and xeroxed dreams. Yearn traveler yearn, for your eyes to look yonder forever, To feel the zigzagging zephyrs that witnessed every zenith of history, from Zoas to Zebras.
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Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 2:50 AM UTC
AlphaBet Clouds
This amazing architecture of allure; awe-some to behold , from beneath bed upon beautiful bed of clouds, cotton-white, concrete-gray and crow-black, this dangerous density diligently damning my dainty existence; ever eliciting earnest and fevered fallacies of false pride to be fatally felled by this gigantic gale-mother, these gods of galactic proportions. Hold me, as I help myself hallucinate about heaven in hell, Innately inundating my lost innocence with it. Joyously joining in jovially joking about our jubilation in, Killing our Kudis and our Khaleesis in keeping with, Our love of labeling lust as love and losing ourselves to, Mankind's madness for maleficence. We manipulate our naive needs into necessities, neutralizing all notions Of obscenity, Obese in our omissions. Petulantly, we punish any probability of penance or pity. We will soon quiver and quake, while quail will fly in this beautiful quag, Resting reluctantly and resisting the requiem of the realm, That holds a sad semblance of the sky's seas. Traveler, your traveling is less than trash if you haven't traced This ubiquitous umbrella; untouched and untainted By the viscous vice that voraciously vitiates the viscera. Wait, weary world look up to the place that no words can describe, To the heavenly xystus that acts as a xylophonic xylem to our xerical and xeroxed dreams. Yearn traveler yearn, for your eyes to look yonder forever, To feel the zigzagging zephyrs that witnessed every zenith of history, from Zoas to Zebras.
Continue reading...
26
The form the moon took against a single, silver cloud; Dog-eared and dumb as a wasteland. A fretted combination of changing elements Ships by majestically Calling time to its slendered oval side Inundating us from a height Shepherding tom-foolery with its light I, oh only I, Oh lonely lunar Mee, Looking at the sky to see The shape of blacksmith's vision In the night; The caress of silver on the forehead From the moon's fledgling smithereens. I cast a glimpse and Sense a stray sheet of Creation above, like a baking tray; Puffing, shifting, darkening. Elements in an oven. Congregation of thought with Madness on the left and Silly sickness in the middle Conjured up- Sense on the right! Cajoled- *** on the brain Coated in- Hard leather bush-tights Plato polite on every oval ***** side Evilness lurking where goodness hides; Be a good fellow - dont be shy Unleash the cry - bellow, HOWL Say hello-ow-ololo-ow in - tremolo Like you're no longer scared - or yellow ..of instant indelibility
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Aug 12, 2010
Aug 12, 2010 at 1:26 AM UTC
Instant indelibility
parallel sympathy endeavor peaceful and untroubled achieve ballerina twists comforting serenity pull a fast one on elixir sip sucker stiff tiny hornswoggle mulct grandfather clock rich rock chimney chalk ziggy pop sirius kid dolls cudi feet tall artists whirl revolution vet wolf convincing sheep curve non believers starting flames horrid instant ways even livid fears queen fairy dust spiral wick gladness warlock king abide nostrum wake flesh archangel passion feans world web crack addicts mankind teach nine nail soundness round raiden uppercut fortify illegitimate swine heedless being being beaten headless ***** eyes hub pivot nerve endings eager enthusiasm hitch pitch outermost central swain free gist intrigue archbishop market black illicit red hot chili peppers implicate explicit inundating problematic seniority cast systems hook boom haze tomb prune embrace bravehearts impale in arms side by side shield elastic coats grace
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Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 8:19 PM UTC
inSpector hatchet patch
Colorful and faultless souls, deprived of screaming out a name, Limited in a box that controls ourselves, Holding tight to an only thing that keeps us sane Blinded and innocent, Dreaming and weeping We fight through our madness Hoping not to deal with our pain Burning and aching, Drowning and breaking We speak to the silence as it slowly consumes us, Fading and remaining all the same, Day after day We watch the struggle and kiss away our wounds Embracing the killer thing that makes us okay Inundating, Maybe with our tears or maybe with the rain... Numbing our weakest and darkest parts, The ones that keeps blasting our madness toward the stars but ****** to fail Day after day.
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Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 1:40 AM UTC
Day after day
Out in the ocean, on a rock, I sat pondering, ignoring the clock. So simple, yet so intoxicating, This water body, surprisingly inundating. Deep and mighty as it appears, Yet supports a thousands life forms for years. It may roar and at times may soar, All destruction it can cause no short of a war. Yet it does not do it at will, If it could it would come to a stand still. Hundreds of secrets it harbours in its heart, Hundreds of tears it treasures as pearls in its cart. For centuries it has served many, With no sign of remorse or that of envy. Though it could not appease, thirst of a weary sailor. Every curious eye, it could please, by its incessant glamour. All pain it kept to itself, Only to serve selflessly it thought itself. Man nor beast couldn’t understand its mysteries deep, Nor could hear it in the darkness weep. No one to hear its cries or sit aside it in times so rough, To be with it through every crest and trough, Yet it learned to get along perfectly with all smiles, Without any regrets it spans for miles. Capturing hearts with its endless beauty, This mighty ocean full of mystery.
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Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 11:09 AM UTC
The Mighty Ocean
My brain is scattered like a fly on a windshield. I want to convey my thought clearly, but there are so many they become a blur even to me. I wish i could write something mind-blowing, but I feel like my brain would explode. I have a deluge of emotions & thoughts & insights inundating inside my mind, but it's like trying to draw up water from a well with no rope. I finally feel complete & happy & well, embracing who I am, yet I feel like a stranger to all who know me.
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Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 12:25 AM UTC
writer's block
November first, all saints Celebrated canonised or not. Recognition left as beauty In the eye of the beholder. For sinners accomplishing Something worthy of holiness, Something worthy of humanity, Its nature, the Universe. Compassion, aidance, honesty. Truthfulness, chastity intended In its purest sense. November first, Olive picking day for me. Harvesting season's yield After the longest drought as I feel, The warmth of an obstinate sun Pierce skin through bones To my very core. The same, Beams granting abundance Of golden juice to the gently Reaped pearls of black and green. From fingertips runs An inundating sense Of blessing, intrinsic unity Of substance shared. Only anticipating taste, Fluidity slithering on tongue, An exquisite elixir caressing Palate as globules fall like rain From branches onto Sheets meticulously laid. An event unknowing solitude For it demands collective efforts, While the distant village band Plays hymns to the dead I praise The living and their worth, Waiting to imagine hundred Kilograms render seventeen Precious litres of ****** Olive oil. Chastity unfolding In its purest form.
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Nov 4, 2017
Nov 4, 2017 at 9:28 AM UTC
Raining Olives
you know who i am you have seen her dancing in flickering candlelight heady breath wafting the sickly sweet smell of too many consumed beers drowning my inhibitions inundating my irises and letting my eyes betray my carefully constructed façade the grenade you throw yourself upon but you haven't asked the right question have you never wondered what i am? i am the tolling of bells echoing through deserted streets cobbles screaming for footfalls and bustling crowds the only witnesses to the belfry's solemn song reverberating off the business fronts boarded up to ward off the reality of sobriety and Death's march through the streets sending the inhabitants running disturbed dust blinding their frenzied eyes who search for a sacrificial lamb as if a swathe of blood across the door could keep away such an inevitability i am the stars but don't confuse that with a confession or profession of some sort that i'm something infinite for you to probe with hyper-drives and deep suspended animation there is no alien microbial life lurking below my frozen absolute zero surface i'm only the stars that you lose track of as you leave the blackness of open space and enter a deafening city where skyscrapers obscure and the pollution of a million lovers' ecstasy drowns out the light wrought in the deepest parts of me and catapulted through the lightyears of black vacuum only to be lost choked out by incessant revelry i am the heaviness that yolks itself around your shoulders and the night black that wraps itself around you in its vicious velvet embrace to ***** out your breath and envelop you swallow you pinch the flame asphyxiate your existence i am the tunnel under the Pont de l'Alma a loss of control and the echoing reverb of skidding rubber tires whose black smoke chokes out the screams which constitute the end and last breath of a goddess among men who never could understand her and in her end found culpability i am the petrichor haze that settles nestles itself into every corner of the barren graveyard wherein lies my comfort and my greatest hope my fear of names and dates and chiseled stone and finality that means a peaceful nothingness that welcomes the most effervescent ebullient peace that comes with the cessation of neural firings and the end of all things.
0
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 4:07 PM UTC
essence
you know who i am you have seen her dancing in flickering candlelight heady breath wafting the sickly sweet smell of too many consumed beers drowning my inhibitions inundating my irises and letting my eyes betray my carefully constructed façade the grenade you throw yourself upon but you haven't asked the right question have you never wondered what i am? i am the tolling of bells echoing through deserted streets cobbles screaming for footfalls and bustling crowds the only witnesses to the belfry's solemn song reverberating off the business fronts boarded up to ward off the reality of sobriety and Death's march through the streets sending the inhabitants running disturbed dust blinding their frenzied eyes who search for a sacrificial lamb as if a swathe of blood across the door could keep away such an inevitability i am the stars but don't confuse that with a confession or profession of some sort that i'm something infinite for you to probe with hyper-drives and deep suspended animation there is no alien microbial life lurking below my frozen absolute zero surface i'm only the stars that you lose track of as you leave the blackness of open space and enter a deafening city where skyscrapers obscure and the pollution of a million lovers' ecstasy drowns out the light wrought in the deepest parts of me and catapulted through the lightyears of black vacuum only to be lost choked out by incessant revelry i am the heaviness that yolks itself around your shoulders and the night black that wraps itself around you in its vicious velvet embrace to ***** out your breath and envelop you swallow you pinch the flame asphyxiate your existence i am the tunnel under the Pont de l'Alma a loss of control and the echoing reverb of skidding rubber tires whose black smoke chokes out the screams which constitute the end and last breath of a goddess among men who never could understand her and in her end found culpability i am the petrichor haze that settles nestles itself into every corner of the barren graveyard wherein lies my comfort and my greatest hope my fear of names and dates and chiseled stone and finality that means a peaceful nothingness that welcomes the most effervescent ebullient peace that comes with the cessation of neural firings and the end of all things.
Continue reading...
99
I know you would never love me I know perhaps there would be someone else who loves me truly Yet the future does not concern me now When I know you will never be in it Could you spare me a loving touch even though I postulate nothing more than a passing glance How does attraction work the unknown machinations of the fragile cage and the weeping bird inside it singing of sorrow coursing through mauve streams inundating the body whilst weakening the mind Once I hankered after the thought of love but now I just think about you.
0
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
Missing Intersections