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Charles Nguvu Apr 2019
I saw a unicorn in Nirvana, dripped in all colors of the rainbow. It had me seeing different shapes and colors like I'm in a kaleidoscope dream. It gave me hope. I promised to give my days and the treasures of my mind. The bit of magic that lives within my soul.
About a muse of mine. She once made me feel eternal
SassyJ Jan 2016
Fire burning, logs marching
A path daunting, ranting taunts
Chanting seamed Arabic hymns
Chargrilled silky toned offerings
The exquisite yurt tent warm
Enclosed in ethnic kaleidoscope
Bedouin tribal pneuma radiates
Tensed and cordially punted
Feral wild ones sociably awake
Reticent,drained in frail noises
Fainting in lapses, trailed to fail
Tidal noises permeates above all
Waved and enveloped in beats
A drummed goblet, strummed oud
Announcement of the lived life force
The tidal rhythmic music timed
All clapping and mesmerised
Drawn in dangerous curves
A continuum of introversion sorted
The ever censored extroversion summed
Content: A group of people gathered in a Bedoiun Yurt, a very colourfully decorated setting. The oud guitar and goblet drum was being played, meandering music.On a cold cold day all gathered by the burning fire to keep warm.
However, spending sometime with the Bedoiun Arabic tribe in the desert. I was fully drawn to their entertainment. All soaked and enjoying entertainment but still constrained by introversion. I guess the question I wanted to externalise is "the relativity of the introvert-extrovert continuum"....... Or am I just socially awkward?
Gigi Tiji Sep 2014
I think I just needed
some Space to myself
so I snatched up the Telescope
off of the shelf

Fogbound, an Envelope
Packed with Parched Paper
Periwinkle Periscope
Crepuscular Vapor

permanent figures
a vial and dropper
kaleidoscope lens
a beaker and stopper
perception is a blind mans kaleidoscope
a journey into geometry unreal
a twist or a turn can make a liar of an eye
that cant see through the pattern revealed
when a one dimensional mindset
is projected upon a 2D field
the world around us shifts on its axis
and another dimension is seen to be
more real than the real three
Martin Narrod Feb 2014
You're sitting across a table, in the next room- and it's the month of July.
And as the beads of sweat chip off your forehead like a shank of butcher's meat, your dorcel fin peaks through the sand where my toes peak through. The picnic table where I write letters; post cards. I take photos, make reservations, and even after I'm canceled on for walking around downtown in my bright neon-pink underwear, I still roll to the left side of the bed sit up and drop the cigarette I fell asleep on. You're just sitting, first entry: Stardom.

I don't have room for you in the corners. The corners of this room, padded walls, shifty vaseline sway- the white cotton stick of a sucker pointing out of your mouth, its red numero forty dye shines in the specks of light flicking out of the horizon like a carousel ride around and around. I'm getting a bit dizzy, and even less honest.

If you want to see me spring, like the silly string on my birthday, yellow silly-putty; molding the monster face, I observe you through a kaleidoscope of dexedrine and morphine. Your catastrophe with Xanax, passed out in alien-green *******, at that party in the abandoned firehouse on News St., how you could lay trust on me after that(a daydream with sawing you called me) sixteen-year-old mishap of an afternoon. You bring it up mentioning the water in the cracks made by the cold sore in the corner of my mouth. Is it that time of the month? No. You don't bleed, it seems that being sewn up to your neckline your head streamed with a purple ribbon, you advocate freedom and being in the present as if practicing solidarity was a subtle thing.

Chewy, sewage tasting vitamins from GNC. Surgery moved to the end of next week. I wish that this sleep "thing" could bring sheep with numbers painted on their wool coating. I would make my virginity my first offering, than silently do my suffering. Lips held tight to your dew-drop forehead, my hands wandering, wondering. Fingernails marking you blue and black until you're *******.

Where in a sickening moment a black beast hovers above us. I scribble words into your left eyelid. A flutter. She, being your best girlfriend, does not interfere with this "thing" we're doing. Otherwise I'm vomiting, my stomach churning under a canopy three months later while we're pelted with rice.....my tuxedo, you're copy and pasted due to anxiety, and so I kiss my mother on the cheek. I leave, I go the beach. And I sit across from you at the picnic table. When rousing from our daydream I hear a moth fluttering, a child's mother whip his wrist the other way to drag him away- and the sun isn't setting, unrested I head in, and I bring my arm to my mouth, and with fifteen year old lips I kiss myself to sleep.
Jenna Lucht Mar 2017
I remember snowy mornings
As a kid before school.
You left before me to catch the bus,
And I remember staring
At your footprints in the melting walkway.
I used to step in the same spots,
Mimicking the trek you just made;
Even though my legs were shorter
And I stretched them what seemed like a mile.  
I remember how close
That made me feel to you.

I remember this one time,
This one snippet of a moment,
When we were in our old basement
And you were standing on that old couch,
Your legs bent in a wide second position.
You were laughing, your face framed in silver wire.
Your hair was more red then, and your face more freckled.
You were lanky and tall;
To me you were a giant.
I don't remember what day it was
Or what we were doing,
But I remember you wore a grey shirt
And smiled wide like an idiot,
Standing on that old, second hand couch-
For whatever reason that's now lost in time.
I think until the day I die,
I will always see that image of you
When your name crosses my mind.

I remember this one time,
It was sometime in the Summer
When I boasted to all the kids in the park about you.
Bragging on and on; endlessly
About how my brother was going to be an army man,
And that if I jumped off the edge of the jungle gym
You would be there to catch me.
You stood there the entire time while I ran my mouth,
Trying to pluck up the courage to jump.
After what must have seemed like ages,
I leapt and you caught me.
I don't even know why
But I remember that so clearly.

I remember the day you came home.
That entire year seemed like a blur,
But the day you came home
Was like a kaleidoscope of color and taste
Returning to my previously dulled senses.
The day you left was grey and blurry-
If I think about it long enough
I can feel the same strangling lump in my throat.
When you came back,
My heart was pounding out of my chest
I thought it was going to leave a bruise.
My eyes darting in every direction,
My breathing quick and shallow
It felt like a dream I was afraid to wake up from.
I remember finally spotting you walking off the bus,
And then all of a sudden catapulting myself onto you.
Your uniform scratched me
It left a long scratch for weeks, but I didn't care.
I could finally breath and smile
Without holding back a pained expression
Every time someone asked me how I was-
I must have been holding my breath for months.
If you as a child is how I will see you forever,
Then hugging you in that moment
Will be how I remember feeling pure joy,
For the rest of my life.

I remember so many things
About how it all used to be.
How you let me sleep in your bed
When I was having a bad dream.
How Mom would send us to our rooms,
But we'd only put our toes inside
And stretch out in the hallway,
Just to talk to each other.
How you would wake me up
On Saturday mornings to watch cartoons
On that big yellow and brown blanket you loved.
Those are my favorite memories of you,
They're simple- and admittedly mundane-
That's why I love them so.
When I think of how things are now
I see those moments in my heart.
And for a bittersweet moment,
I remember we used to share so much more than DNA.
thinklef Aug 2013
It's 6pm,
anxiously waiting till its 8pm,
For the voice of magic,
that magnifies my heart from so many miles away,
This is my confession your voice is  perfection,

I love the way you alter those words of affection,
Without going down memory lane,
Butterflies in my belly doing the flip floppy thing like a lolly,
As I feel your sweet melodious voice,
Solidify & Stir-up in my heart,

I wanna radically alter my thought,
I'm astonished by your rapid transformation of words

To be sincere,
If the sea where to be a burning fire &
the blustery wind were to blow it  profusely
Like a stormy rain of volcano upon the land,
I will never leave,

I will always be on nigeria info,
Where I get all the info,
the purest of creativity you deliver,
you diva,
When I tune-in  in the evening,
you Ignite my heart
Your eyes are the kaleidoscope,
to my ever moving colorful world of reality,

Let me leave for now,
I will be back soon by night,
I think others are in anxiety,
Trying to drop in,
Their beautiful words of human creativity.
A glimpse into more than the globe
No passing fancy a glance into the Universe

Like seeing the patchwork patterns
On one hell of an acid trip

Feeling for the first time a kaleidoscope
Of wavy sounds weaving out and in and through

Knowing but not knowing that I am  much more than ego
Finally seeing it's not me but just a part of who I am

I tell myself why or is it that I ask myself why
Just for a brief moment the Universe showed its hand

All  of those seminars and self help books
Just as bad as those Christian evangelists

Preying on the lost or ill and confused and asking for the hand out
That they are sure to find in a game of numbers translating in to cash

Like a dog with a bone a seeker of the 'what is' I twist and turn
I sometimes pretend that a new beginning waits at the end to begin again
authentic Dec 2015
There are ways to forget
There are ways to get better
There will be a tornado in your throat as you try to unlearn the definition of love and you will have to choke down all the things he said to you with alcohol you shouldn't be having so much of
You are dizzy from intoxication and you think of his kaleidoscope eyes and fall to your knees
In humble abandonment of your old self, you are vacant of any comfort you may have once knew
You are looking for new ways to escape this horror of reality
You stop showering because the water feels too much like his hands running through your hair
Open the windows, he would have wanted them closed
Smash the television, break the radio, drown out all the sound because he can't sleep without noise
And you can't sleep without him but it is better to lay there with silence hanging in the air rather than accidentally hearing a song that the both of you once loved, waking you in a cold sweat like an addict itching for a drug
And sometimes when I get drunk I say that I hate you
That I wish my mind had never laced itself into yours
That I hope your next morning will be one that is cold and idle
And I'm sorry that I do these things
Because alcohol is an intoxicating ingredient being poured into my blood stream and these words that smell of liquor are one's that I do not always mean
I find myself filling with immoral substances to resist going to sleep
I cannot bear going to sleep now because each night at approximately 3 am
I wake up in a frenzy from a dream I was having about the old you
Panicked, terrorized, I feel I am under attack by the soldiers of my own mind
Maybe it is because I know I will never capture you, with each relentless passing second, you will never be the you I once knew and loved
Because when things were good, they were great
However, you must always pay close attention to how they treat you when things are bad
Whether it's "I love you but you're such a fool" or a door slammed on your fingers
There is always an option though
To continue loving you, chasing pavements, limping towards a dying light
Or to leave with some decency and a change of clean clothes
You see, I've learned that there is always a hospital bed, the question is whether or not I want to rot in it
And with you, I feel on top of the world, a mind game
Because I know I am actually on the bottom
There is something you do to me, as if you place glasses over my eyes
Making me believe that maybe this is not as bad as it seems
That being without you is somehow bearable as long as your face is implanted into my skull
There is no real way to describe the staggering appetite for his touch
I am starving for such warmth that never goes cold
A drinking water that never runs dry
He could refresh my cracking heart valves if only he were to come back
But he won't
He would watch me *******, crumble, disintegrate away
Deteriorate, degenerate, decay to ash
Corrode, decompose, shrivel up, pollute this hole I am locked inside of
He does not care for my safety, he does not care for my life
If he did, he would have come home already
Insecure Dreamer Apr 2014
I'm drowning in the weeping willows vermilion haze.
In a sea full of forest green memories
and the history of lines carved in the trees inner core.

I'm drinking the pure beauty of the white sky,
that's staring in my eyes and reflecting in my heart.
My feet are dancing in the valley below with the whispers of the wind
and around me the gentle touch of the light dandelions  surround my veins.

I'm smiling with the moon
and singing the night lullaby to the stars and they are blessed.
My soul escaped the everlasting pain that was captured in my rib cage
and now its herding freely with the butterflies and bees.

But still, the veridian blue of your eyes
are imprinted in every violet my fingers touch.
My body is a kaleidoscope of your memories
and its haunting my every being.

Your words are killing me but my heart still sings your poetry
and my thoughts your every smile you unconsciously shared with me.
And yet, I can't seem to find a way to forget you.

Because you left and took my happiness with you.
My heart still remembers the moment we reflected in the mirror,
of our future together.

And in that moment of picturesque dreams and orchestra of topaz,
I was content as can be, ans cosmos filled the room.
I keep repeating the same words and the same dreams,
but they're starting to get more and more vivid.

Maybe its happening because of you that's moving on
and I'm still dancing with the thoughts of you being mine.

So, in the morning I'll throw my pillows in the air
to release my ever changing memory of you,
so they can be free and I can let go,
and start to breath again...
Ola Gia Sep 2018
In the sky with the birds, with the clouds and their kisses
The sunlight envelopes her in a kaleidoscope of hues.
Soaring, dancing, floating, swooping.
Freedom.
Bubbles in her chest, patterns of excitement on her face.
She is whole.


POP! And she comes crashing down,
With chains around her, until she fights and flies again.
nic Apr 2021
they say weird words that feint romantic
between the arson of feelings and antics
twisted like kaleidoscope eyes
that's the only way to see you
through a lens not quite right
telling you it'll all be fine
Fritzi Melendez Feb 2018
One soul.
One heart.
One mind.
Two eyes.

Two window panels to see it all.
Your relationship with the sun had always been so strong.
It wasn't a surprise that the yellow ball of fire shone its light through you.
The sunlight loves to stare into your eyes.
A shifting kaleidoscope of green-blue hues.
The angelic light surrounding your free-willed, sun-kissed hair.
Your fair, fragile skin, warmed by the sun that invites you for a hug.
The only source of life it wanted to give itself was to you.
It wasn't a mistake that the sun chose you as its shell to live in.

One love.
One warmth.
One light.
Two eyes.

Two emerald colored eyes to look directly at the people you love.
A toothy grin to compliment the joy in your eyes as well.
You radiate through the breath that you exhale.
You are the sun, the person who everyone wanted to revolve themselves around.
And you always welcome them with your warmth and light.
Your presence is the break of dawn that people enjoy waking up to.
And you were just as happy to tell everyone "good morning."
Your love for everyone is endless, unconditional, unfathomable.
I wanted to bathe in your sun rays and drown in this home feeling warmth.

One hand.
One confession.
One hug.
Two eyes.

Deep down, I yearned to be your moon.
I was merely Pluto, the farthest away from you.
No, you welcomed everyone in, including me.
I am useless, I am small, I am not what I say I am.
And yet, you still let me in.
The gravitational pull encouraged me to move.
I held your hand and felt as if my heart had been dipped in your sky.
I saw your irises turn to every spectrum of color.

One day.
One breakdown.
One hand.
Two eyes.

My light dimmed as I was pummeled in a meteor shower.
Swimming into a black hole I intentionally wanted to reside in.
But you are the sun, you needed everyone perfectly aligned.
You bathed me in your sunlight as you wrapped your arms around my dying body.
Your sunlight, making my tears evaporate.
You didn't let go until I glistened with stars.
Your warm green eyes, staring right into my heart.
"I'm always here for you, Fritzi, you know that right?"
And before I could respond, I was thrown into a rocket ship for a sudden change in my planet's location.

One me.
One year.
One change.
Two lies.

The first was that we'd still communicate through the satellites.
After awhile we began to orbit through a different planet system.
Houston, there wasn't a problem with the communication, we just got busy.
We had to tend our gardens of stars and **** out the oncoming asteroids.
The second was that we said we were there for each other.
But with the lack of communication, the atmosphere became silent.
Vast, dark, empty, cold, but I still hoped for the static sounds on the walkie talkies.
I never saw the sun again after the take off, I never saw those two gleaming green gems again.
It grew cold and all was black, never realizing I'll soon regret the silence so deeply.  

One decision.
One mistake.
One crash.
Two dead.

You were the first one to go.
...
Hearing the static crackle sent my heart racing after years of a dead signal.
I listened and was suddenly turned deaf from the radio waves that formed the bad news.
I saw the planets collide right in front of my now dull eyes.
A fiery, colorful explosion, and stars dripping out of space one by one.
And then it all sank, this wasn't real, this isn't real, it can't be real.
In my shock and confusion, I was ****** into a vortex of complete darkness.
And although there is no sun to tell me when to wake up now,
I still wake up just in time for the break of Iris' dawn,
And I hear her; I hear Iris whisper to me "good morning."
An ode to my dearest friend, Iris Dawn.
DeeDeeK Jan 2012
Images swirling changing hues
memories fresh, me and you
kisses, looks, touches breathless
deeper meaning, crossing thresholds
mental snapshots changing focus
always brings me back to us
life stands still all around
while we tumble in a kaleidoscope
David Barr Dec 2013
Do you perceive the deep crack within the fulcrum of the universe?
Daylight and darkness blend into a hypnagogic and hallucinatory kaleidoscope, where the art of fantasy rises from oceanic depths in the form of a seductress who rides upon the wings of a horned god.
We could even enter into meaningful discourse, as we contemplate psychoactive echelons of spiritual intensity?
Are you hungry?
Rsebd Apr 2018
She asked me the strongest drug I had ever done,
I responded with your name
Not MDMA, LSD, or *******.
You kept me up
Intense heartbeat, face red, cheeks flush
sweat pouring, teeth grinding, actions rushed…
Bursts of color invade my visual receptors,
the sights are fluid movements through the lens of a kaleidoscope.
Music takes command of my limbs, now I’m putty in your hands
You have your way and we dance.
Left, right.
Left and right. In and out.

Breathe.

I take another hit of you.
Chemical energy circulates my veins
chills crawl down my spine and ice overlay my lungs.
I know I can’t get much higher but I’m addicted to my sins.
I take another hit and breathe you in again.
My eyes start to wiggle and roll towards the back of my head,
I should’ve left a long time ago,
before you killed me and left me for dead.

Overdosed.
I remember jumping into the water without knowing how to swim
I remember pressing my hand against the kettle to check if it was hot, watching it blister red for hours
I remember pinching myself even if I knew I was awake
I remember running until my feet burned and my lungs collapsed

I remember crying so hard until my eyes were swollen shut
I remember not remembering the answer to a math question and everyone called me stupid
I remember gripping my own wrists so tight until it turned into a kaleidoscope of blues and purples
I remember letting myself get tangled in your hair and drown in your eyes

I remember destroying myself
A poem I wrote awhile back it was pretty weird typing it in because I'm not in that place anymore but yay go me
Together,
Your eyes
Are a kaleidoscope,
Reflecting sequences
Of our love.

A love
That never ceases -
With each moment
It increases;
A symbol
As pure and peaceful
As that of a white dove.

⚘ By Lady R.F. (C)2015* ⚘
Clemence Huet Mar 2012
It could possibly be magnetic
Something in the caligraphy of my actions
I cannot control
When the wind blows
I follow

If the word had not been abandoned
I would swear this was perfection
My marauder
My undoing

Speckles of tranquility settle
At the bottom of my subconscious
Like sediments in a lake
Slowly it thickens
Slowly I am no longer the fraud

Now I open my eyes into miles of sand
Looking to the sun with eyes closed
An insect sheds its skin so delicately
That he appears a ghost

And if blue were blue
I would already be gone
The twisting kaleidoscope of colour
Confused for one shade
Again the corners turn in
Becoming a cocoon
How do I deskribe a kiss?
The most blessed of gifts:
It's the keystone of romance,
Kaleidoscope of lips.

It knocks me all off kilter,
Like a kick right to the knee.
But it doesn't hurt, it's keen and kind...
At least initially.

A kiss kannot be shared with kith,
Nor relative or kin.
Just with one who's only kismet
Needs me to kindle its flame's begin

Karma, too, works through the kiss:
She uses Koalemos to kayo.
But so does Keb, the kinder god,
who kills the kildness- my heart's snow.

Still, how do I deskribe a kiss?
Kamikaze? Prepared to ****?
Or delikate as floating kites of kids?
Definition eludes me still.
Hannah Jul 2017
By the time I reached the end,
my mouth was tied in a twist.
Salt water and smoke
rose up from my throat
caged between porcelain,
and sugar sweet lips.
I lay awake,
swaying softly,
in a cacoon of strawberry silk.
Carefully contemplating
the white spaces of time
that kaleidoscope like fractals
between the shades
of falling leaves.
I am at peace,
fully aware of the world
around me.
I am happy,
dreaming of summer sunsets,
and kissing the cherry trees.
❤︎
Mike Bergeron Sep 2012
The seats are aging
Orange leather with
Cracked faces the
Lines of wisdom
Of ninety
Thousand sitters.
Entire ecosystems
Live on the shining
Polished silver of
Handles dulled
By sweaty palms.
Sightline through
A window
A passing loco
Blurred brief
Images of
Unknown faces.
Sightline to the
Chamber behind
The metal snake
Winds down the track
A touch of vertigo
From uneven motion.
Sightline to
Cascades of light
Brown curls
Flowing over
Porcelain shoulders.
Smooth skin
Sweet as aspartame
Skii ***** neckline
Heavenly form
Yellow dress
Slight movement
To the heavenly forms
Pouring through
White earbuds.
Sightline to Sightline
Meet in the air
Muddy brown
Graced by
Kaleidoscope
Greens yellows hazels browns
Electric charge
No other passengers
Perceive.
The doubled thump
Wump
Picks up speed with a
Coy smile
A sunrise blossoming
Over Eden
The birth of an
Angel
The thirst of desert
Sands
Quenched.
Beauty erupts
From the shared gaze
Held 6 stops
Past hoyt-schermerhorn.
Immediate
Immaculate
Connection
Fire through the air
Static charge
Primal lust
Infinite joy
If I could just
Say hello
Hi
You've enraptured
My soul
The epitome of
Beauty.
I sit instead
Stuck
Deer in headlights
****
My twisting insides
The grey says
Such monstrous
Things to itself.
Her stop.
****.
Broken gaze,
Disconnected
From the maze
Of her eyes.
I lament.
Sightline back
To page:
"Those that have crossed paths are not memories
Nor is the yellowish dove that sleeps in oblivion..."
I lament some more
At the poignancy
And the loss of a stranger
Made just for me.
She probably would've
Broken my pumping
Gears anyway,
Sayonara, c'est la vie.
"Those that have crossed paths..." from 'There Is No Oblivion (Sonata)' by Pablo Neruda
anonymous jamie Nov 2013
33
What to say?
When the quiet mind speaks.
Outer world
From the inside.

When the quiet mind
Acts gently
And patches aren’t so red anymore.

When the quiet mind
Spheres more
Into vision
And peripherals shrink
And rest behind the
Telescope.

When to say it?
Thirty three

Who to say it to?
****** up and
Understanding.
Weak and
Lush.
Furrowed brows and
Triangle smile at
Morbidity.

Where am I going?
I’m kaleidoscope eyes
Resting on rafts
Silently floating down a heavy
Trickle
Perched toward the clouds
The wisps of waterfall’s past and infinity.

Will it consume?
Moth wing feelings
Stuck in the melting wax
Of a candle
Settled near a flame.
Ophelia Jolie Mar 2018
Wherever we go, we can find love.
Love is like a kaleidoscope.
Look and admire it, turn it and see how it changes.
Love is so much more than...
a tender touch .....a moment of infinity,
a passionate kiss that robs you of your mind,
.....Sometimes a simply smile is enough....
Love is in the origin always the same....
just love....
Char Oct 2018
watched in her cage with blazing eyes,
a casket was hidden
with hurt and blame
within the hearts of two

She braced
the words and actions of callousness,
the usual,
disrespect

he flamed a stem of anger
in her patient heart
and carved collected wounds
in her bleeding heart,
cloaking her sunlight
within a kaleidoscope

With every fight,
their heart spoke like titanic ships,
screaming chords from broken strings
in sunken seas

with every fight,
she poured her heart and soul to him (once more),
bearing her heart
with unscripted honesty,
reflected in apologies and thought.

with his words spoken,
"I love you. We will fix this,"
tears stream down,
unbroken
but she wonders if the truth is faded
with empty promises,
no action
But for now, I will keep believing in him.
P.S. Critiques on how to improve this would be greatly appreciated! i think i stumbled at the end and it's probably quite confusing
Jenn Gardner May 2011
My own breathing is audible,
Perhaps this brings to light,

The fact.

That I am aware of another part,
Of my own consciousness.

A kaleidoscope.

Of light and sound previously,
Eclipsed by my dependence.

We all exist.

On different planes of being.
Third, fourth, fifth dimensions.

Residual good.

Is the only path to redemption.
Redemption may only be self inflicted.

Infinite potential.

Is what every being begins with.
Yet accumulation is more satisfying.

Eternal beauty.

Is the perfect guise for sinister acts.
A catalyst for heightening the madness.

The glowing man inquires.

If it is true that love conquers all,
Bring to light the heavenly reason.

For all of this ******* decay.
I know this is what

I was born to do

Electronic, Classical

   Analog or digital

Do we understand their meaning?

        I find it pivotal

         WAKE UP KIDS

From this crazy mind-****!

We never have to grow up

Collide, collide, collide

Cause when we come together

We’ll blow up space in time

Cause I know my crazy mind

Rules this space in time

Science, binding energetic mesh

Orb of fervent, atoms, matter

Forever brings the universal commander

Kaleidoscope dreams too heavy to stop

What’s the **** argument

Let’s raise the frequencies

Then drop
Something I wrote fresh from San Francisco full of inspiration.
www.eugene-moon.weebly.com
Tara Fear Feb 2013
You are my Kaleidoscope,
I look to you for change,
You are my Kaleidoscope,
Vivid, beautiful and strange,

I look to you for star dust, half moons and golden suns

You are my Kaleidoscope,
A wild array of colour,
You are my Kaleidoscope,
I stare through every blissfull hour,

I change my life, hope and dreams,
To reflect your ever-changing themes,
You are my Kaleidoscope,
A visit that is exquisite,

You are my Kaleidoscope,
I will never tire of what you show,
You are life and air to me,
To my eyes you are all they know.
CH Gorrie Feb 2013
For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons...*

Beyond the blackest cotton glove,
the compulsively edited manuscripts,
unmentionable lines untrained ears love;
beyond the satin lining of a human husk,
the failing engine or cooing soul
nightingales smuggled in the dusk;
beyond asking how giraffes like to die,
the moon's waxing through a kaleidoscope,
eyes hollowing before hearts tell a lie;
beyond the manifestation of a mental illness,
the coffee spoon having no coffee left to measure,
an overwhelming sense of an unseen presence;
beyond where the orchard truncates its blossoming
is renewal of equality like an unmapped sea
spilling its welcome to a choked wish.
Connor May 2017
I

I have seen an
Aztec owl, kissed by the eternal
kaleidoscope of morning,
robed in Yellow air

Light escapes its hungry beak
and joins the Sun in harmony,
break of day rekindles the brickwork of archaic memory,

The Owl has lantern eyes which have witnessed innumerable births,

     -and the cultivating of this cherry-wreathed Valley, where we eat and
   write music for the soil's tender womb
                      
Opal condolensces for sleep
and sadness, the Owl gifts a necklace embroidered with apology, coiled 'round your neck, in times of gladness and tragedy

II
      
...and do not fear, for cradle, ring, and tomb
   all repeat in cosmic fashion
  
            (you will eventually return here, to the sea, you always have)
            
          Remember the attic where youth was stored away, to be replaced with exotic patterns, coral bulbs, cotton and laughter
        
     There, lay a glasswork child for your chest to keep safe. Your past. Your past of plums and skirted dancers, desert glow, Caribbean sleep.

(your mind rests its quiet curtains, but the classical radio station can still be heard)

III

An owl of sunset mosaics
     enters your dream, illuminating
the revisitation to a Mexico City
  that was flooded for Mountains
  
           ..soon to recede and quake, when Winter's spirit fades once more, there you will unearth
            Tenochtitlan.
JK Cabresos Feb 2016
Every color,
every perspective,
every  triumph,
every defeat,
every me,
and every you —
lies in the mirrors
of this kaleidoscope.
david badgerow Jan 2012
my life is beautiful, not realistic.
yesterday, i arrived on neptune
wearing big boots and dignity
the horizon was a nightmare of question marks
and gloomy witches;
i escaped from the religious enema and
pegged a choir boy on my way out.
i am no longer a pygmy goat on a foolish leash,
i take my paranoia seriously.
my journals guide me to a ruptured corpse,
never censored.
i have the ability to be given away on a whim,
but i am becoming a famous soldier, an intoxicating
ghost of dogma.
my dreams are beautiful, not realistic.
hallelujah, the hobos are wearing bathrobes,
the ****** pillheads are anointed with ****** and sewer cleaners.
i see a goblin grave advertised by
luscious lips and fishlike shoulders.
the texture of my dream is kaleidoscope and silver,
haunted by a fat sherriff who cuts the throat of the jukebox queen.
i have a personal god, and on her i bestow this passionate kiss,
i have a favorite enemy, with no goals and without ambition.
im sorry, i don't know any happy songs,
only the movement of her young sensitive thighs and
a nymph with an hourly rate.
i am a buffoon with a blugeoned harmonica and
weapons of sugar.
my life is beautiful, not realistic.
RKM Jul 2011
A glimpse- and rushing
Your fingers rough
But warm as they find the skin  
beneath my hair-
grasp the back of my neck and
we’re embracing through heavy coats:
a sturdy crush to reach our organs,
placate the crave for your trace.

It’s always elation, first.
A squealing burst I stifle-
My brain is jelly in the station.
It’s a stinging cold but I won’t wear gloves
as we walk home and
our united skin blends as our fingertips
grow numb.

I’ll say, “I’ve missed you”
and mean more- only because the words are missing
and it’s easier – less syllables
to say than to explain
how you’re the colour to my scenery;
and without you, my kaleidoscope gives
only grey triangles.

— The End —