"invents" poems
Sometimes she walks through the village in her
little red dress
all absorbed in restraining herself,
and yet, despite herself, she seems to move
according to the rhythm of her life to come.
She runs a bit, hesitates, stops,
half-turns around...
and, all while dreaming, shakes her head
for or against.
Then she dances a few steps
that she invents and forgets,
no doubt finding out that life
moves on too fast.
It's not so much that she steps out
of the small body enclosing her,
but that all she carries in herself
frolics and ferments.
It's this dress that she'll remember
later in a sweet surrender;
when her whole life is full of risks,
the little red dress will always seem right.
Lord: it is time. The summer was immense.
Lay your shadow on the sundials
and let loose the wind in the fields.
Bid the last fruits to be full;
give them another two more southerly days,
press them to ripeness, and chase
the last sweetness into the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now will not build one
anymore.
Whoever is alone now will remain so for a long
time,
will stay up, read, write long letters,
and wander the avenues, up and down,
restlessly, while the leaves are blowing.
13.4k
Earth invents gifts,
On life forms, there's no thrift,
Earth the inventor,
Are humans the predators?
We've wrecked habitats,
Even our own, that's that!
But more Earth inventions,
New form of populations,
Earth always inventing,
Innovations designing,
What's the best invention?
Is man an aberration?
Once a Garden of Eden,
Life we're superseding,
Still, on life forms there's no thrift,
Earth keeps inventing gifts.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
A DEATH CREATES A DECEMBER/OCTOBER TWIN BIRTH WITH RAY POCOCK’S LIFE FOLLOWING HIS TRAGIC NEXT LIFE’S DEATH
YOU SEE ROBERT KINOSHITA, TURNS 100, AND GOES UP TO SATURN TO
DO A FEW ROBOT DANCES, AND INVENTS THIS LITTLE SONG
I AM THE GREATEST, I MADE A FAMOUS ROBOT
IT WAS IN A GREAT GREAT SHOW TITLED LOST IN SPACE
I WANTED TO LIVE FOREVER, BUT I EVENTUALLY KICKED THE BUCKET
BUT I LIVED TO BE 100, TO SAY I DID THE ROBOT DANCE
I DID THE ROBOT DANCE, SAYING
I AM A ROBOT, I AM A ROBOT, MY WAY IS COMING TRUE THROUGHOUT THE LAND
I AM A ROBOT EVERY SINGLE DAY
I CREATED ROBOT B-9, HE WAS FAMOUS FOR SAYING
DANGER WILL ROBINSON DANGER WILL ROBINSON DANGER WILL ROBINSON
AND THEN SAID, I AM A ROBOT, I AM A ROBOT,
I AM COMING TO EXTERMINATE YOU, I AM A ROBOT FOREVER AND EVER
AND THEN AS I GET OFF STAGE I TIP A KEG OF METHANE ALL OVER RAY POCOCK
TO SAY, LET’S MAKE TWINS IN OCTOBER, WELL LET’S MAKE THEM DUE IN OCTOBER ANYWAY
AND ROBERT AND RAY SAID WE ARE PERFECT ROBOTS
WE WILL CREATE NEW LIFE, IN OCTOBER, OH YEAH
RAY HAS NO IDEA, EITHER HAS ROBERT, BUT THEY BOTH SAID WE ARE ROBOTS
AND DANGER, IF WE LET THE TERRORISTS WIN
WE ARE CRONUS’S, EMBASSADORS, I AM CRONUS
I AM THE ONE IN THE FAMILY, WHO LIKES IMAGINATIVE ROBOTS
AND WE DANCE, WE ARE BIG ROBOTS, WE ARE BIG ROBOTS
WE HAVE COME TO ESTERMINATE YOU GUYS IF YA COME TO CLOSE
DANGER WILL ROBINSON, DANGER WILL ROBINSON
THERE WILL BE DANGER IF ROBERT AND RAY SEPERATE, CAUSE
THEY ARE JOINED TO PROTECT THE EARTH, AND BRING PROPER ROBOTS BACK
WE WANT HELPFUL ROBOTS WE WANT HELPFUL ROBOTS
WE WILL GET THEM NOW, ROBERT KINOSHITA TIP METHANE ALL OVER BARRY ALLAN
CAUSE, HE WON’T EXCEPT HE IS NOW ELIZABETH ANN CAMPBELL
DANGER BARRY ALLAN ROBERT SAID IF YOU GET THIS YOUR LIKE ME AND MUMMY CRAP OUT OF YOUR SONS
DANGER AHEAD, TO OLD HAGS WE ARE BIG ROBOTS, AND WE WILL STAY BIG ROBOTS FOREVER
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 3:08 AM UTC
Closure invents a reason to let go;
that hoped-for last **** is
anything but
Life is cataclysmic.
Seizing an imagined moment
in a now that ends
before its beginning
signifies a slavery to transience
so complete and pervasive
that words heave and shudder
in its withering folly
Timeless puzzles are incompletable
by artifice; rather, resignation
to disparate pieces,
and identification with neither
the pieces that didn't fit,
nor those that did
The period does not
complete the sentence.
The sentence ends
when it is finished.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC
the latest theories on the Neanderthal
is they died out due to homosexuality
& the earliest evidence of actual civil
order depicts women as priestesses &
queens & men, even kings as animals;
monsters & giants coexisting w/ teenagers
& old people in complex structures ruled
over by older priests, poets & a professional
warrior class; the king could be murdered
w/ impunity & the queen taken as consort
by the next king or murdered if she proves
too ambitious; & throughout all this, scribes
record the passage of time, the declaring of
laws, engagements in wars, rituals, persona,
comic tales & history; notable women have
a roster of their own, some written by ******
scribes party to their secret names & habits;
all known things; bathhouse elect, her scribe
observing her in the dressing mirror invents
the adventures of her reflection; a princess
never to grow old yet her father-husband is a
bearded elder; her older brother a warrior-prince
& future king; her younger brother/son is the
poet who must reveal what he knows, if only
b/c he'll burst if he has to **** his baby sister
in ritual Hieros gamos w/out telling everyone
exactly how he feels about it; but daring to speak
means being ****** burned at the stake, beheaded
& drawn & quartered, so he writes in secret
[chisels actually, so it's resemblance is mostly
related to relief sculpture
& engraving, but writing], passing
the linear tablets to the young priestess who buries
them beneath the temple floor for some future age
of mankind to discover anew & perhaps heed the
warnings of the coming chaos (the poet, a prophet
before there was such a thing); the ****** priestess
worships him w/ unrequited longing; her heart in
chaos, sharing the poet's vision; nature calls her
to her big brother like a woman loves a man & on
that day when they are to publicly mate the young
siblings are gone & are presumed eaten by the
unseen unseen like so many others before them
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 5:30 PM UTC
Poetry invents jocular joy
Limpid loquaciousness rejoice
Heuristic verbiage to deploy
Poetry invents jocular joy
Dancing with Shakespeare and Tolstoy
Mellifluous melodic voice
Poetry invents jocular joy
Limpid loquaciousness rejoice
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
In my love of day
My love invents another day
In my window night
Another night is invented
We are what we think
So carnival of carnal imaginations
Be still, learn to concentrate
For the calligraphy of fate
Shows sign-seeds of
Syllable-clusters, rampant sparks
That the stars in my hands
Invents a touch that deconstructs
Itself, these eyes that have
Taken these pages by storm
And this heart that cannot
Let any portion of the
World go unloved alone.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 10:57 PM UTC
Humidity in theory
harbors images
of nights lit up
by bioluminescent flying jewels
that you catch in between your fingers
like a cage too large
and they fly away
into the sky.
The evenings are thick
with sweltering droplets
that hang beneath
the orange street lights
that cast a muted glow
onto your salty lips
and hazy eyes.
The day's steam.
And as the water fills your lungs
And as your clammy hands run through sweaty hair,
summer is alive.
Humidity in practice
invents beads running down your back
that pool in your shirt
and matted hair that sticks
to the nape of your tender neck
while you claw at your throat,
suffocated breathing
in between the condensation.
The days are layered with
mirages on the bubbling asphalt
like a sea that only burns you
and the yellow lines are
the only safe haven
when crossing the street
with just your soles.
The summer's plastic bag.
And as the sun blisters your skin
And as your hands only long for arctic rain from a calcium faucet,
summer is alive.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 6:41 PM UTC
(Creation to the end of an Ice Age)
© 2008 (Jim Sularz)
Sun’s first rise over life-less skies, the earth cools, and the waters pool -
the sun burns East to West.
And the planet’s broken plates quake and move.
Lightning strikes, the waters stir, and the bonds of life begin to churn -
the sun burns East to West.
And the waters swirl in a living urn.
Strange aquatic things, they all evolve, some spiny finned, start to crawl -
the sun burns East to West.
And they slowly stretch ***** and tall.
Eons past where the cunning reign, a savage place, with small sized brains -
the sun burns East to West.
And the dead surrender their twisted remains.
An asteroid streaks from the sky, blocks out the sun, cause most to die -
the sun burns East to West.
And all in the blink of time’s eye.
Footprints in stone, some on mountainsides, make it clear that rocks don’t lie -
the sun burns East to West.
And the fossils always tell the time.
Eons past and eons more, the fittest evolves, and man is born -
the sun burns East to West.
And the early brain, once fast asleep, begins to dream and mourn.
The first million years, man lives in fear, learns to hunt, invents the spear -
the sun burns East to West.
And migrates to claim the vast frontiers.
Tools from stone and controlled fire, creates language, that shake man’s empire -
the sun burns East to West.
And splash cave paintings with human inspire.
Life-times of hunter-gathering, and story-telling in the dark -
the sun burns East to West.
And a world spins with a million hearts.
The earth starts to warm, the oceans rise, and the waters shape the lands -
the sun burns East to West.
And when an Ice Age ends, then comes, the Age of Man.
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 5:03 PM UTC
world is a fallen butchery of meats,
spreads meat over and over
gives no names,
the meats smoke lives,
rot or dies,
other meats appear,
other meats rot and dies,
the meats spread out like a butchery,
the meats move and dies,
the meats rot,
or dies from accidents,
other meats appear,
other meats dies,
the world is a butchery of meats,
as do not know where to lean,
invents policies, policies,
is space arrangement of meats,
a place, a flesh meat dies,
there would be no policies,
many meats a place of dead,
but the world of dead meats
butcher the planet butcher dies.
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 5:03 AM UTC
Total abstinence is so excellent a thing it cannot be carried to too great an extent and
Wit is the sudden marriage of ideas which before their union had no relation.
Americans will occasionally astonish the God that created us when given a fair shake .
Indecency is the first thing the missionary teaches the savage.
Nature knows no indecencies ;man invents them.
Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities ,truth isn't.
Action is always the way ; words will answer as long as it is his neighbor who is in trouble.
Truth is the most valuable thing we have.Let us economize it.
Herodotus says,very few things happen at the right time and the rest do not happen at all
Obsession is the man with a hole in the seat of his pants and cannot keep his fingers out it
My mother had a great deal of trouble with me but I think she enjoyed it
Size of the dog in the fight dont count.size of the fight in the dog
Dont go around going the world owes you a living. The world was here first
Denial Just aint a river in EGYPT
Prose wanders around with a lantern & laboriously schedules & verifies the details.
The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated
Hunger is pride's master
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 3:32 AM UTC
Like a leaf falling unknowingly towards a blade of grass…
I impacted at dawn with the sound of a faded smash…
Invaded by reality, my brain whipped up a list of tasks..
But I quickly yawned it off in favor of dreams from the past…
How nice is it to retire to a place of wonder and passion…
When your days are filled with pondering your squandered rations…
A place away from heartache in a land of exotic fashions…
Strange tales of horror mixed with ****** interactions..
What a world it is that our dreams create…
Even giving glimpses of a future face..
Or maybe a real story from a future place..
Of guts and glory from earth or space…
They open Pandora’s box of ideas and images..
But unlike life, the dream diminishes…
Like the feeling of love lost with sleepy grimaces..
And the attack on your foe that’s lost it’s viciousness..
The ability to be in one place then instantly in the next…
The thought of how you got there never leaves you perplexed…
It just is what it is like the characters in this text…
Images of prisoners that your subconscious collects…
Lined up next to each other, depicting events…
Comedies, dramas, love stories, and suspense…
The feeling of realism is just so intense…
The horror is horrifying and the fortunes are immense…
That’s why I love these stories my brain invents…
So now I’m off to catch tonight’s main events…
Aug 6, 2010
Aug 6, 2010 at 2:00 AM UTC
High voltage poetics,
Planting words seeds
In a field of nomadic minds,
In a sky of dreams
Bursting above the magnetic stars,
The skin of words
Peeled from flesh of life,
The page is a silken weave,
The words threaded in a void,
Syllable construction
Of a spiraling flame that invents
A city
In a day
In a life
In a person-
The thought deconstructed
Into metaphysical metaphorical,
Musical mandolins,
The mandolinist touches the foreheads,
A pack of wild people
In the wild city nocturnal,
The spectrum of voices
In a rainbow of verbiage,
A wonderful desolation
As the hours fly as a writer flies,
The Sunstone's dial
Burns time at the crossroads of midnight,
We are a gallery of echoes,
Our history lives today
Hushed into memory,
Diaphanous vision
Accumulated into the mind
Vast as the moment,
The mirrors reflect the Word
And the Word is life,
Reasons are a geometric anomaly
With morality at the center
Of the theoretical poem:
I choose to inspire,
Which means to live and observe
Daily reconstructing in the poems,
But the poem is not truth;
Poetry like history is made,
Eyes of language,
The truth is to walk it,
Inspired to live and the dream
Is written in verse.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 9:03 PM UTC
Stranger than me, or too much alike
some wrangle upon toilet papers
plastic cups out of place or lost time;
peering past, another wanders on.
Tinkling wires and rainbow faces
hearing, seeing, perchance aurific speaking
the namer among ten-thousand petty things
or squinting upon the verge of time, espy a sequal.
Step by step to round the universe
or being fell-swept away in cubboards
seem or act unseemly, like or dislike
played to the order in the round, circling about.
Why so familiar these drabbed tones of ant trumpets
or wineskins grown old to leak and sputter?
Tis the wish and will, holding like ****** to the ropes
great gales n frothing nothingnes storming on.
But We, blown upon the Aether of the Soul
a great conquest of rousing dignities;
here, under nooks, behind secret doors
or bounding past, lightning speed, relay some wonder.
Shock of waking, or dulcet tones in the Alarm of life
our shadows twist, there on the lintel of private hours
our care, held through the Night kinder endearments
then danced over reeling waves for sweet inspection.
Here unalone a look, a voice and laughter ring the ears
a crying out, or trebled inward sigh, too close to trembling-
Who is this Sojourn Friend?
Perhaps our best of self combined
no more allied to faithless days nor dark an empty smiles-
strange wastes some carelessness invents to wrack the hours.
But We, no stranger to the Sojourner's faith, Are One.
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 12:37 PM UTC
Take out the trash
and ponder
A typical day
in gravitational pull
We use time
surprisingly more now
Than any other time
in history
Every week
there's a new internet
But nobody invents anything
a genius is an intellectual scavenger
As long as
there is Open Road
The familiar has
the most formidable competetitor
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 12:43 PM UTC
you ask, "why i haven't killed myself?"
I.
the day she died,
i remember my father telling me
there are millions of good girls out there
then i realized, she was the one in that million
and for her, i'll stay alive for another trillion
II.
my hope that one day, this pursuit of happiness
will eventually peruse me to joy and success
but i wear anxiety like a dress
to the point i've made this whole 'killing myself thing' a mess
III.
for all the heartbreaks i've endured
there will be one girl that invents the cure
but i reject love to the point it's lost its allure
and death is the only thing that has become sure
IV.
why i haven't killed myself?
i am already dead.
we said we'd grow up and meet in a coffee shop one day
now you're gone and to see you again, my life would be the price to pay
but you have reserved your soul in me, embedded like espresso in a latte
push these pills away, and hear you whisper "there are other ways"
V.
i outright refuse to hear my grandmother's religion talk about suicide in an ignorant manner.
i rather not be the talk of Christmas dinner
and rather endure my aunt's repulsive dessert than become the devil's bread-winner.
VI.
why i haven't killed myself?
i am already dead.
i am finally starting to find love again
and i'd rather the ink of this pen die before i enter Heaven's den.
VII.
i can't handle seeing my brothers at my funeral
hear them whisper of all my "wasted" potential
then see them leave to use drugs as their coping utensil
VIII.
i would get to see her again in heaven
but she would bring my heart into a deep descend
as she says "to me, you are forever dead."
IX.
everyone would speak about my sacrifice
but i wear pride and it shreds my skin like knives
and god forbid, i disappoint my loved ones before i end my life.
X.
why i haven't killed myself?
can't you see it? i am already dead.
i died the day she left and i'd rather my final words to her
be the last thing i've ever said
than a stupid poem about how i kept wishing i was dead.
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 10:05 PM UTC
i found two things bewildering,
alzheimer's attacks the pronoun
category, and other forms of it too,
but modern psychiatry
having abolished asylums for
a humane revision of its practice
has become a branch of medicine
that over-prescribes nouns,
and by such over-prescription
invents noun jargon,
it cut open an ancient greek word,
used the prefix (overly) and added a suffix (sufficiently)
to make no sense whatsoever,
it prescribes neonouns like it prescribes
pills that don't work... or if working
then in a negative way... anti-psychotics
can make you **** yourself in your bed
when sleeping, i've been drinking for some
time, and my bladder is arnold schwarzenegger,
when i used to be on anti-psychotics for
no adequate reason (living in a post-colonial
society does that to you, you can come from
lithuania or poland and be treated like a
would-be coloniser to extract the fastest
sprinters for a new country, without the "doctors"
treating you adequately),
so as i said: alzheimer's attacks the pronouns,
the iron core of the earth that's an individual
thus dislodging all the adequate orientations
of categorisations of words... like psychiatry
abuses the noun category: schizoid, schizo-affective,
plain dumb schizophrenic... bi-polar, uni-polar,
plain dumb depressed... psychiatry has long
established a monopoly on nouns...
i just use their terminology to excavate a new
grammatical categorisation of words,
from poetry, among nouns adjectives pronouns
and conjunctions... you'll find psychiatry nicely suited
and booted as a word categorisation: metaphor:
all psychiatric diagnostics should be categorised as
metaphorical... 'cos they name it... but have no idea
as to how to behave behind it: it's not like they
say cancer and you're expected to die...
you're expected to live in their terminology
of treating you for a ******* pay-cheque:
you won't even commit a crime, but they'll
treat you like a criminal... so long suckers...
i mean western europeans, i rather live in (as the
americans say) i-raq... and shoot a bunch of you
protected by what i see as the final solution
you thought was once church v. state...
how about segregating democracy (the church)
from bureaucracy (the state)... but of course
the two are mutually dependent.
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 7:19 PM UTC
Man
Invents Art.
Man
Learns
To appreciate Art.
Man
Realizes
Whole world,
Whole universe,
Is Art.
Man
Invents God.
Man learns
To appreciate God.
Man
Realizes,
Whole world,
Whole universe,
Is God,
Is Art.
Man
Invents religion.
Man
Learns to fear God.
Man
Forgets,
Whole world,
Whole universe,
Is God,
Is Art.
Man
Invents sin.
Man
Learns
Art is sin.
Man forgets,
Whole world,
Whole universe,
Is Art,
Is God.
Man
Invents hate.
Man
Learns
To hate other man.
Other man different,
Other man never learn fear,
Other man still Artist.
Other man never learn,
Art is sin.
Man
Forgets,
All men,
All people,
Are Art,
Are God.
Man
Invents law.
Man
Learns
To use law
As a weapon
Against other man.
Other man
Realizes,
Man
forgot,
All men,
All people,
Are Art,
Are God.
Other man
Invents teaching.
Other man
Teaches man,
"Remember,
All men,
All people,
Whole world,
Whole universe,
Is Art,
Is God.
Other man
Realizes,
Man too blind,
Too afraid,
To see truth;
Whole world,
Whole universe,
Is Art,
Is God.
Man
Invents war.
Kills other man.
Man
Refuses to learn,
Whole world,
Whole universe,
Is Art,
Is God.
Man
Forgets,
Man
And Other man
Are same.
Both are Art.
Both are God.
Man
Invents propaganda.
Man
Teaches man
"Other man different.
Other man bad.
Other man sin.
Be afraid,
Be very afraid."
Man
Kills other man.
Man
Invents self-delusion.
Man
Learns
To believe what man was taught;
Other man scary,
Other man hates man,
Hates God.
Man
Never realizes
Other man,
All men,
Whole world,
Whole universe,
Is God,
Is Art.
Man
Never realizes,
He is other man,
Other man is him.
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
Wading through the mire and sinkholes of contingencies
I move gingerly, quietly, gasps merely whispered
upholding propriety and pragmatics of
housing association bylaws
enough to make me consider mowing my own lawn
but humans are human, co-exist as they say
And although I detest your husband's cigarettes
I am quite sure blowing smoke back
down the air vent would not be as effective
as your decibel oblivious obnoxious self, imitating my lustful voice
I am a reasonable woman, truly a lady, preferring mature consultation
But the fact is, honey, if you imitate me again
when summer air re-invents lingerie season
the two of you might want to go outside for that smoke
because you haven’t heard anything yet
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 2:45 PM UTC
the weight around absence of might
will slowly bury collapsed matter out of
our style
the entrenched wretched waste of verb
is sewn hastily to this fray
out of sight
the pale adventure will pause on a petal
resuming criminal affections of
the retina
one phosphorous bible verse thread
invents one stone knot end
ad infinitum
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 6:16 AM UTC
I’m in the business of invention
In the art of new intention
Making something out of nothing
And falling back on no convention
I’m a spontaneous generator
A clumsy, crude, and crazed creator
Deftly dodging laws of physics
And without a moderator
Unchecked I grow my thoughts too fast
Too big, too bold, but built to last
Fed on dregs and trivial words
And made of insecurities vast
I’m in the business of spinning tales
Of conjuring roaring mental gales
Convinced my happiness can’t stick
And swallowed up in false travails
I’m the master of complication
The reigning queen of brute frustration
The duchess of dismantled plans
And dreams that fell to degradation
See, my mind invents its own dismay
And cannot think a simpler way
Assuming all must fall apart
Thus keeping hopefulness at bay
I’m in the business of delusion
Hooked on sinking in confusion
Stuck with a mis-wired brain
That treats all joy like an intrusion
I’m a wild contradiction
Anxious over bits of fiction
Wishing for the chance to breathe
When this rush is my addiction
Worrying is what I know best
Accustomed to distraught unrest
Small wonder that a happy thought
Is treated like a passing guest
Small wonder that my frenzied mind
Assumes that Fate must be unkind
So even when the tides have turned
I cannot leave Distress behind
Jun 13, 2011
Jun 13, 2011 at 6:20 PM UTC
The old and the new,
do you remember
December back then?
Stockings hung
bells rung for School?
fool,
no school at Christmas time.
What now?
Google invents the new advent,
twelve days and a million ways
to find everything,
Google
can even sing you to sleep
carols to keep you snug.
Bah humbug,
handbags are on another page
Google and see, but
we
remember the go out and look days
I guess
we
are set in our ways,
the old and the new do
what they do and
I do
too.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 6:03 AM UTC
upon the scaffolding of your bones,
she builds.
where a heart used to beat,
she invents a wild chaos with taut strings,
a mechanism fueled by *******
she paints the walls of your long-silent skull
with a fresco of desires you never harbored,
vices you never possessed.
systems of ascension are fixed to your spine;
an express elevator, a jet, a zeppelin.
with glee, she crashes each one.
her vision shreds the blueprints.
and i, who walked the old halls,
who knew the sonorous echoes of your heart's hollow,
who learned the secret passages and the warmest rooms,
am powerless to halt her sabotage.
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
The bones of love howl such parodies
That cannot speak more seldom of Paradise
Black sand irritates the Pearl...
Faith maligns the Believer
As God invents Pain,
Shrill phantoms
Over Love's
remains.
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 6:10 PM UTC
the city looming deeper in its final rays of clarity, the yellow of an embrace enticing like an unknown skin, a flock of dark birds moving like a promise, the feeling of the ****** self, hundreds of years of desire. never stop asking the impossible questions to capture the paradox of life, how much trust we need to acclaim its splendour
something possesses this unseen something, it makes me shrill and tender, furious and ripe. how much disappointment can we bear. I want to be engulfed by sunset like a fool, I stand with my eyes open for rain to fall into my dreams. love is something life invents to keep its honour, from the stones' point of view, love is mysterious, from the point of view of nothingness, it is everything that can fill the flesh, the empty space of atoms, a sweet preserve. it teaches us to endure the hidden face of light
at last she no longer possesses me, at last I possess her briefly like a window posseses the clarity of morning
I am humble, insatiable, less blind, I am fierce and proud
We are, says everything that simply is
Dec 31, 2023
Dec 31, 2023 at 5:01 AM UTC