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Ashlagh Naighlim Jul 2010
Pe cand noaptea se lasa si nimanui nu-i pasa,
Pe cand ceata-ndeasa si acum far-de-prefata,
Pe cand lumina piere si se lasa cu durere,
Masca eu o pui deoparte si ma definesc aparte.

Caci ma vezi ziua schimbator,pe emotii trecator,mijlocitor
Sad sau merg,vorbesc sau tac,dar sunt tot un...liliac.
Caci doar eu ma inteleg si fluier mut,caut coleg...
Dar de unde sa gasesc,noaptea zbor,ziua zabovesc.

Stau si plang,stele de stele,indurerat,companie-mi tin doar ele.
Luna nu o mai suport,imi strica lumea ce mi-o port...
Indoliat mereu,dar nu se vede,caci doliu-mi tot...cine ma crede?
Nimeni,caci imi scriu doar mie;Sa ma cunosti?!...e Blasfemie.

Hai sa-ncerc sa ma arat...usor,sa nu dau indarat.
Schimbat in singur,deci cu timpu,trecutau anii,schimband grupu,
Cutand mereu fata far-de-zar,siguranta pura,dar e in zadar;
vesnic adaptiv,renuntator,am invatat constant *** e sa mor.

Trecutau anii,evoluand,am luat cu mine tot,furand,culegand.
Tarziu mi-am dat seama *** de izbutesc...In invizibil eu traiesc
Domino eu mesteresc si involuntar,mereu,eu il pornesc;
Toate piesele-mi cad in sac,se evapora...plang si tac
Munca,alinare o secunda,dau masca jos,da sa se-ascunda
Urlu,magai,simt,gandesc si mereu ma pacalesc.

Cautand mereu ambrosie,dar nectaru tot ma chinuie...
Trec prin sange si prin sentiment cu idealu-mi stimulent
Dau de-o ea si dau de mine,dara EA nu da sa vie...

Va ascult *** reprosati,radeti,inghiontiti,bucurosi sau suparati,
Calcati pe voi,calcati pe mine,ignorati si totusi tine...
Gasiti refugiu-n contradictii,fugiti de voi,va luati de dictii
Si astfel tot ma atacati,priviti spre mine indignati...

De ce? eu pur "sange" m-am nascut,fara frica si nu m-a durut
Ati venit,m-ati "educat",fara mila si regret,tot voi m-ati conturat.
Sad in fata voastra-acum,reprosati,ma indemnati pe alt drum.
Ce vina am eu ca v-am ascultat?,fac ce stiu,ce ma-ti invatat.

M-am luptat,m-am ridicat,de unde voi m-ati aruncat,
Si cu aripi noi noute,diferite,...dar dragute...
Am decis sa nu v-ascult,sa fac ce stiu,tot mai mult
Si astfel ne-am departajat,in voi si eu,...TERIFIANT!

V-ati semnat propriu testament,sa va dau iubire vehement,
Va dau tot ce batjocoriti,va dau ce nu vreti pana muriti,
Dar cu timpul s-a schimbat,ati invatat,ati evoluat...
Tot,tot,tot,ce eu am dat,miseilor,ati manipulat...

Am luptat,am incercat,ce simt,pe  voi e insemnat,
Tatuaj fara de voie,nevazut,scris cu lamaie;
Caci il vad,il desclusesc,in oglinda eu privesc
Intorsi pe dos pana la moarte,va citesc ca pe o carte.

Am trecut incet,incet,printre voi,plin de regret...
Sa va iubeasca Dumnezeu,caci in lumea me-as doar eu.
Emotiv,departajat,scriu in stele-ndoliat...
Preamarind singuratatea,cunoscand nici-cand dreptatea!

Greu de inteles,desprins,incalcit parca-n adins.
Zbor acum si scriu departe,bucurand scantei de soapte.
Sad in somn,visez pucioasa,tremur vesnic dupa raza.
Si tipand pe ploaia deasa,ma asez usor,...mi-e greata.
Kerli Tulva Feb 2017
Writing a poem
under the moon
Contemplating
on a wooden chair
The silky curtains
spread their wings.

I hear a voice
your call at night
echoing on walls
I leave the ink
and run down
over the meadows
over the fields
and the moon
lightens my path.

The woods is dark
but does not halt
my rush toward you
I run for a while
I run for years.

In your room
is a coffin inside
on top of it are flowers
a bouquet of liliac lilies
I don't hear your voice
anymore. It is dark.
I sit by there for years.

It took centuries
to reach you
and seconds
to love you.
The moon on the hill
is standing still.
Vanessa Zisman Nov 2016
Some days wake to the rising of sun over the horizon,
The taste of new sliding off my tongue,
The view of new chances, new adventures laying in my reach.
Other days I barely wake to the bed where crows come to weep their sorrowful songs of lives before,
Where tears fall from a blackened sky to flood and fog my vision from what I should have seen.

Some days I walk through fields of wild flowers,
Smell of lavender and liliac consuming my senses,
Paths leading to serenity's threshold, and I move ever closer to its door.
Other days my legs hardly move and I sit frozen taking in the poison as I slink in fields of poppies,
Nodding in and out of reality,
Scent of stale whisky mixes in sickening concoction with the smell of copper to send me throwing to my knees,
Fiery pain quenching knots amid my pits.
Darkness my old sidekick,
An old hiding place,
A place where I once came to lay my head,
A place, a thing of silence, now loud, deafening to the ear,
Darkness the sound that comes to clench me in its grasp, holding me half in its hands.

Some days I wake to the sounds of two lovers meeting in ravenous passion, the feeling I could never quench the thirst, the feel of fingertips tracing me into light.
Other days my ears hear only nightmares, the horrors that haunt my troubled mind.
Shrill screams of loves death,
The sound of my hearts puncture and the feel of its decapitation from my chest.
The sound of souls flowing in rivers lost from earthly robes,
And the sad,sad song of a million crows.

Some days the curtains open to the sun shining upon glistening skin, two lovers captured in never lifting kiss, two bodies linking and two bodies intertwined.
Other days I wake in hell, a fiery, unforgiving pit of my own creation,
Loneliness a deathly horizon,
And my soul wades in the rivers edge contemplating being one among the lost,
One among the dead....
Mary Gay Kearns Feb 2018
Went to stay in London when I was but a child
Stayed with my Aunty Betty always a bit wild
Put me in a bedroom that smelt of soap and lace
Decorated in liliac, that was the latest taste.
Sat in the front room overlooking the street
Books on the painters displayed very neat
Listened to the classics,  music I'd never heard
Sipped percolated coffee, never said a word.

By the grand piano a table of pretty shells
A collection from holidays in Corsica and Wales
Where there was a fireplace stood a new gas fire
Above it a reprint of Van Gogh's sunflowers
Lunch in the kitchen with a room filled with light
Yellow painted walls to keep everything bright
Plastic chairs from Heels the strings made a ridge
Susie Cooper tea cups soup with crusty bread.

Salad in a basket black pepper to add
Ice cream for pudding I was really glad
Ate all my dinner then to the garden went
Under the Willow together on a creeky bench
Wondered round the garden, listened to church bells
Thought this an unusual life no children to tell
I loved my Aunty Betty the stories she would spell
Of places on Greek Islands, her boyfriend as well.

John was a teacher, literature of course
He wrote lengthy poems and took photographs
They went to the theatre the ballet and special films
They lived not together but an hours dream
John in the country Betty in the town
Was simply perfect for them to get around
I looked at all her photos when Betty was young
The ones with her sister who also was my mum.
Although they were different alike in many ways
They both chose the sweet life but felt the other's sway
My mother had two children with little money to spare
Betty had not got any so that made her rare.

They both died at eighty their influence great
Thank you Grace and Betty you both have your place.


Love Mary daughter and niece **
Love to Betty Rose  (Elizabeth)  my mother Grace Emily Westbrook Love Mary **
MissNeona Oct 14
Spreading ruma is ugly, finnish'd, but spreading rumah-rumah in indonesian is houses others
Buku-buku
qiyahmah kiyah of koran and karate
kick in a high knee
Prophet Margin of Error - Proper Up-Raise-All
Idolatry from graven images
E-manual, wonderful counsellor
isn't everyday judgement day?

Unhinged jaw of the leviathan
our horse artemis atimiz
building ***** manor
kin of the castle
neo cosmic egg

Irish taitnionn iz shiny tightneon
Tautology say it twice, time constant
7 chinese qi, nana, shichi
Double Pepper's Ghost Torus Field

Full halo proton event
Moon prism power make up
the moon's stars on the broad way

Dark oxygen bubbles

Loyal opposition tweedledee and tweedle dum play ping pong but to score you gotta send the ball to empty space otherwise its just pitching and catching stalemating

Could be aliens, or just a passing truck
Dyuloka is a Sanskrit term for "heavenly world".
annie are you oll korrect?
Mind the Ginnungagap existing between Niflheim and Muspelheim.
Inspecting and expecting the spectacular

Rubrum argilla
mor muman & braiding liliac
Growing up...
Crown shyness: the murmuration of the forest
sphinx in bloom
Unorthodox planting of seeds

David knows how to please a deity, trusting from core, dancing, secret chords... I wanna see that show
*** = them who are they if not us?
Hubba hubble ****** tension
The evolution of the great wave
The rain chain, best linkages
pure seduction?

close-knit skeining
Quota-able metrics
new record? keeping it!
re:awarding
getting SMARTER
energetic investments

Fact Orly? Reset
World computer rendering speed

mighty might-be boss tones of potentiality
self add voca, see!
clean spirit radio signal
compositional undertones
Speak FOR yourself
To each their own

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