"mirages" poems
the sunflowers gleamed
in the noon day sun
their flourish of color
couldn't be out done
the sparrows flitted
above their ravishing visages
they were enchanted
by their dazzling mirages
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
the sunflowers gleamed
in the noon day sun
their flourish of colour
couldn't be out done
the sparrows flitted
above their ravishing visages
they were enchanted
by their dazzling mirages
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 8:32 AM UTC
the desert heat surrounds me
my mind slowly baking
for the moment i am free
my mortal vessel aching
as my soul grasps at fatal misconceptions
a mystic door left ajar
locked in a state of introspection
i stare into myself from afar
all these colors all these things
what do they mean
to mirages we cling
a cryptic reality remains unseen
passed off as a silly whim of youth
neither tears of woe nor tears of bliss
these are the tears of truth
brought by knowledge's sweet kiss
ask me not why i cry
ask yourself "how too may i?"
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
It shifts, dual purpose,
Illusions, truth,
Mirages in deserts,
Purity, the stream of life,
It flows, it flows.
The young lady, she stands there,
Her voice muffled in the silence,
She says something but not a sound escapes,
I take her hand and,
She guides me through this crevice,
Between reality and spirituality,
A key between the black door and the white door,
A way out of the waiting room,
She guides me.
Trees a burning gold,
Everything is connected,
Branching out into infinity,
I walk until the path leads me,
To the two rivers in the seam,
I stand in between.
Silence.
What does it mean?
Perhaps an exaggerated dream,
Foreshadowing,
Of what is yet to come.
I walk, and walk,
She guides me,
The deer wanders,
Behind unboundedly,
Liberated, not a care,
Time is an illusion.
We walk until we stop,
My legs like fluid,
No restraint,
A body of water,
Made from the purest glacier,
Connecting from the two rivers,
Understanding.
A towering mountain stands,
King of everything.
Dipping my face in the water,
Rejuvenation and comprehension arrive,
I see a peek of truth at the bottom,
Swim down but I am stuck,
It's not my time.
I surface as she takes my hand,
We walk down the path,
So inebriated with the vision,
Unaware of the avalanche,
Everything collapsing,
Falling, falling, crashing,
I am not to grasp it yet.
A taste of possibility,
The perfect amount of tranquility,
The Creator poured just enough of each ingredient,
A glimpse of what I need to change.
I take the first step into the last days,
A different man.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 3:07 PM UTC
There was an ancient gully
there were skeletons,
ocotillos strewn across the sand
holy places creatures crawled out from
cactus brittle, drying, lying dead
Mirages leapt - spectrally
ghost dancers, drunkards falling down again
bloodshot eyes searching,
shipwrecks, lost waters, the sea
cool river floating past the trees, you drift
crash and wake alone
cow skulls haunt you
death's sun bleached
bones
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 10:11 AM UTC
Wastelands of dry parched nothingness
Forced pursuit of pale mirages filled with life
Wavering brinks of relief in the scorching heat
Washed away life of golden liquid
Dehydrated stumbles in the dreaming darkness
Faded taste of malicious lies
Water in feverous dreams
Dried up mouth in waking sleep
cc071211
Feb 22, 2012
Feb 22, 2012 at 9:13 PM UTC
It’s the early morning that does it for me
I don’t mean to seek it
But I am sought in these quiet empty-full hours -
All or nothing out-with-the-bath-water seclusion.
(Delusions of liqueur
cocksure
Every flavor of azure)
Oh god what I would give to extend the great expanse of 4am, ribbon slick and taut as a ******
And me, warm and creative.
It’s the early morning that does it for me
I’m staying up with a song.
-Call-
Respond
Eyes and lips and abandoned ships
Mirages of **** below long, fluted throats
Gliding between notes
and me too
Ready to drown you.
(It’s the early morning that does it for me)
As you give yourself over to the caresses of the mistress
and dream of flying over perfect fields of wheat
and then land
and then wake
≈furrowed≈
disappointed to find
a cold pillow where a head should be asleep
I release my held breath and meet you
Half way
I was singing
I say
And collapse in a heap
Wet hair
Bare feet
It’s dawning and day
Closing my eyes
Sunset at sunrise
Holding onto a secret key
I dream of the sea
Nov 6, 2021
Nov 6, 2021 at 4:43 AM UTC
Listerine fountains are falling,
breaking through the roof,
shingles like helicopter blades,
scratching up my face.
Your mouth is making violent motions
and I can see mirages between your teeth.
It took me a long time to master,
but I can't here the news on repeat;
I don't want to anymore.
I don't know what you thought
mismatched socks would accomplish,
but those mixed with an heated face
sorta make my scull feel like
marzipan.
5, 4, 3, frozen in the moment,
right before a scream.
2, my iPod crumbles in hand,
just like the game I always lose.
1...one, one, one...
I blocked that out too.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 9:32 PM UTC
Look at yourself
All *****
Blackened with a sour demeanor
Rip the top off
Take a look inside
An endless carousel
See the stars
And be thrown to the next page
Never to come back again
The stories for the next chapter
Clenching to previous excursions
Remnants, recollections of once new beginnings
Once you start you can’t stop
Can't turn and have second thoughts
Once you’re out
You’re gone
Falling to pieces
Smoking, dangling
A mental spasm
A lapse, relapse
Push them away
They speak too loud and bright
A half baked scheme
It’s something to pass the time
Hedges of red
Busted fence posts
Inconspicuously
Punctured shell
To the roots
Vibrations to my brain
Purple furlough
Roofs fall
Pedal till they bleed
Bleed dry to the bone
Till the bone breaks
And the pain grapples me into submission
We ignore the fruits in front
Of us for the mirages
We pretend are real
Putting In hope and taking out lies
Riding the ignorant air of pride
Crawl in desperation to continue
It wouldn’t lie
Stick to the plan
Raise the voice
So they hear and believe
We won’t stop till it’s found
They won’t stop till I’m in the ground
Buried, out to pasture
Fresh fertilizer here
I hear his deceit meshed
Deeply in his voice
Yet I fool myself to
Believe due to my denial of doubts
It won’t let me continue
Smile for no reason
When I think about it
Disorientation follows
Don’t utter another word
The grass is dead on both sides
So let’s make them equally green
Plant the seed
Pack a lunch
As we walk, we remember
The lesson we were taught to never
Tread here
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 12:52 PM UTC
Acidic Memories of Flying Free on LSD!
(FOR J,S, and N.S)!!
Miniscule piece of blotting dot,
Slices through my brain...
Swear I felt it sitting there,
Time and time again,
Stereo sound distorted,While wild mind cavorted,
Feeding much imagined images,
Mirages in a mist,
The light fantastic, it was stripped,
Brain enlightened as she tripped,
Is it night time?
Dark or Light time?
Haven't got a clue,
Free riding wild,
Runs as sparkly space pilot,
On the end of the bed,
Hell on earth,
I lost my head!
Was that funny micro-dot, purple, pink or blue,
Confused in a bedroom,
Where the hell is the door?
Couldn't escape, till toxic fit left..
After too many hours,
Shut my eyes,
Tried to sleep,
Not a chance in hell,
My mind flew well,
Trippping on flashes of dots and of dashes,
Colours of rainbows,
Flew through my head,
So much more so when I needed my bed !
CopyrightLivvi Kent 30/04/2013
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 5:44 AM UTC
It’s a warm evening on the sahara
camel washed sand dunes
rise up like sacred mountains in the
red distance
I unzip the flap of my
nomad tent
dry desert winds
plait golden grains of sand
through my nubian hair
Sai Krishna
my heart is a parched fig
monsoon tears flood the nile
and my mind plays ***** tricks on me
mirages robed in ochre
waver across the striped horizon
Peacock Lord
Your Radha has prepared a basin of
fragrant myrrh
to anoint your lotus feet
flowers gathered from the gardens of
Isis
are eager to adorn Your divine neck
Prema Swaroopa!
Answer the ardent prayer of Your devotee
before the moon rises a silver swan
in the heavens
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 1:20 AM UTC
She was always a chameleon soul
Black Orchid
Eyes, shadows, vulnerabilities
Of heroine chic,
Juxtaposed with an embracing
Self
Of mutual
weirdness
Meshing voices from
The past
Nostalgic memories for
Behind the camera
A lady photographed
A younger self,
Mirrored reflections of
The lady she had graced
Into through the
Ages,
Where contemplative deliberations
Iconic wonders, flashed through
Her mind
With each click the metamorphosis
Click;
one
two
three
Twiggy, Edie, Kate
Transformations; a sorcerers magic,
Contradictions;
body
mind
soul
Mirages amidst reincarnations
Never a remnant of the same
For, the lady behind the lens
Unseen
A ghost veiled in black;
The Black Orchid.
© Sia Jane
Dedicated & written for my darling friend Cara <3
For she shall know love <3
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 11:36 AM UTC
Old men on park benches
they’re the real heroes
souls defying impermanence
greying and slower than you
recalling the days
when they dared the seasons to change
kinetic and thoughtless
they were once young men ablaze.
These elder boys sit reminiscing
as the beautiful young women prance by
not daring to say a word
for fear of ridicule
but knowing that many nights
they were desire’s center of attention
when lithe legs enwrapping them.
Elders are not holograms
just vintage men with feelings
hurting when the young and sparkling
look through them not at them
as if they were props
in the day’s act.
Elders are not mirages
but consciousness battling time
accumulated wisdom vibrating in the ether
still electric inside and unafraid of time
with smiles on their faces
they reach out for sunsets
and pull them close
with arms of love.
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 6:29 AM UTC
Lonely is the little cloud that has nobody to rain on;
He is so free, floating high in the big blue sky;
He sails in the wind, far and wide filling himself with joy and love;
All he wants is to pour his heart out, he has so much to give;
But he is sad because his drops are tears, tears of loneliness;
Loneliness that fills all of his heart, and all of his soul.
Will the sad little lonely cloud ever have someone to love?
Or is he doomed to float above the desert?
His heart getting fuller and fuller, ready to explode;
Oasis after oasis turn out to be mirages;
He needs somebody so badly, and wants to love so badly;
He never cries but he cant help it, the lonely little cloud.
Dec 23, 2009
Dec 23, 2009 at 4:38 AM UTC
The silenced weep on pastel colors
While rainbows pass through windowed thoughts
Deep within my mind is a trail leading to a universe
Stellar happiness draped upon rivers of joy
Going out on a limb, to jump from dreams
Onto pages of hopes written ravishingly
Imagination runs away from me wildly
Remaining intact with its childlike ways
Jumping into puddles of mirages
Swimming in pools of fantasy
Hallucinating on what may come
Imaginary imagery dancing upon moonbeams
Jarred in glass jars held upon windowed shelves
Closing eyes tightly around the glimpses of sweet serenades
While musical tones create beautifully painted canvases
Once blank without any reflection
Mirrored images of the future grants introduction
While paintbrushes meet color tones in seduction
Secluded rendezvous leading into ****** sensation
Alluring lust into temptation, leading away from separation
An everlasting desire of dreams entering reality
When morality grows a deepened mortality
A work of art is born on vacant sheets
As contentment drives on desolate streets
Harmonious melodies playing through radio beats
Creating muffled brightness through dusk’s doorway
Sun shining in through my mind in a magical way
A beginning to a brand new day
Has started, Today!
Apr 9, 2010
Apr 9, 2010 at 2:58 PM UTC
Pestered and pursued
by unknown foes
A topsyturvy land
where snakes can have horns
and cows can have fangs.
Night'mares' where the day's stallions
make mountains out of molehills
A chance to witness greek mythology-like creatures for real
For dreamland tis a place for the unreal and surreal.
Those hair-raising scary scary dreams
beset with horrified silent screams!
We do try to interrupt nightmares, pinching ourselves
With relief wake up to see there aren't any horrid elves.
We also try to interpret dreams filled with mystery
But gifted dream interpreters like prophet Joseph
Are now part of biblical human history
All in all, dreamland's fascination
for extra-ordinary exaggeration
and tall-tale imagination
Where myth and legend come to life
An amalgam of fiction or real strife
Where assorted monsters of the mind
reign supreme in that REM sleep of our kind.
Yet on the other hand the wishful, wistful sweet sweet dreams
where fantasies form mirages bordered by fanciful seams.
Where castles in the air that humans build, float gently down to earth
only to shoot back up unto nowhere from the awakened one's berth.
In dreamland a pauper girl can be a princess or fairy fair
for daydreams extend into the night and linger on there.
A quote I took to heart and it to console all and sundry
'that if your sweet dreams don't come true, don't you fret
for atleast your nightmares didn't come true either,
so just heave a sigh, by and by.
Every night let us all just fly away and escape
And lo behold the extraordinary world of Dreamscape
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 7:02 AM UTC
Guns are everywhere in sight
Muzzles, fire and fright.
Blood running through sewers
like flooded rivers in mid-May,
when it should be running through veins.
Slain bodies once filled with life
are now filled with undeserved death.
Pain seeps through the eyes
of brutalized victims as they weep.
A mother pleads to God
with hopes He will breath life
back into her daughter's lungs
as a child stands over the rotting
bodies of bystanders,
and waves at the flies
Unrest fills the air
while fire's are burning under water
Tragedy burns the face down to a tear,
Could Hell get any hotter?
Mirages mirror terror,
Silence in broken mirrors.
It may seem that voices don't exist
in places like this,
And that a difference lies off
in the distance;
out of reach, unattainable.
But they do.
A blind man's eyes become
his hands and his ears
when he needs to see,
While the mute lack a voice,
they still find a way to say,
"Hope is never all lost."
They need to know they are not alone.
Battles are being fought all over this world.
War, famine, sexism, racism.
A fight between mother and father.
Grief for the loss a lover.
We can all relate,
in one way or another.
Ignore ignorance, become informed.
Silence does not defeat violence,
nor is strength needed to beat it.
Courage and a heart
are needed to defeat it,
along with the will to believe
it can be defeated.
Throwing punches with fingerless fists
and broken spirits can seem useless,
but more has been done
with less.
Remember, a voice with something to say
is harder to forget
than a voice
that is
silent.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
There lies a desert void of life
There lies a desert void of water and void of food
There lies a desert void of all good things
In this desert lies death
In this desert lies air more dry than dead bones
And in this desert lies pain more than can be imagined
For I wander throughout said desert
Seemingly with my lonesome
With no one to turn
And with nowhere to go
So I sit on a rock and wait
Then a promise of water comes to me from Above
But when the driest of days come over the horizon
And the hottest of times comes to my face
I almost give up, leaving the promise
And then I feel like I have moved on from that promise
But I cannot leave what came from Above
Oh me of little faith!
So I wander seemingly alone in this desert
For days upon days, weeks upon weeks
For months upon months, even years upon years
Longing for even a drop of water to satisfy my thirsty soul
But here in the dry desert the water is unfound
For all of the water has evaporated into the dry desert air
But on the horizon I see what I’ve longed for
I see what looks to be a spring
Bringing water to the dry desert ground
To satisfy the thirst of this dead dry country
And as I approach this great gorge of water
I am killed with the realization that no water lies here
For I have been tricked
By the images in my head
And the physical needs of my body
I have been deceived
The green and lush never truly existed in this dead dry desert
Only this mysterious mirage in my misunderstood mind
So still I search across these dry dead lands
For the water that might bring life back to my tired soul
But time and time again
The mirages ****** my hope for satisfaction
But soon enough I know I will find the promise
And reach the flowing waters to satisfy my soul
One day, I find myself a well
A well that may be full of water
Water that may wet my thirsty tongue
But when I look into that deep well
I see a crack in its basic foundation
And no clean water lies in this broken cistern
So I drop my bucket into that deep broken well
Hoping for a mere drink of water
But in the bucket comes muddied, dirtied water
And when I pour that water into my thirsty mouth
My thirst is not satisfied, it is only magnified
And I am more thirsty than I have been ever before
So I take another drink
But this broken cistern holds water that cannot satisfy
Water that may merely increase my thirst
That will only bring forth the day of my death
For my mouth is as dry as this desert sand
And I will die here in this dry desert of death
I am like dead dry bones in the valley of death
With no flesh or breath to give me life
But then when I find the water that gives life
Flesh will come about my bones
And He will breathe breath into my lungs
Then for the first time, I will have true life
I wander on never finding the water I require
But then I stand and look heavenward
And I hear my weary voice cry out “My bones are dried up!
All hope is lost, and I am cut off!”
So I stand in the dry dying desert
Alone with nothing and no one to hope in
Then His glorious voice responds; “I will raise you from your graves
I will put My Spirit in you, for I am the Lord your God
I am with you to the end of the ages
For My Son, your God reigns with me
And our Name is Immanuel
For I am with you."
And I fall to my knees
For there lies a cistern unbroken
I look deep into this well and see a promise unforsaken
For the well is filled with sweet satisfying water
And I drink never to thirst again
For He is the Living Water, and I am satisfied in Him
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 1:41 PM UTC
what you see:
me, quiet and deadly still in a way that
i never am
staring into empty space or
at a blank wall. maybe i'm
counting cracks or cataloging creases.
you see me zone out—
such an airhead, that George is
i wonder what he's imagining
what i see:
ivory skin and hair as orange as
sunset, and she is as beautiful...
on the outside;
but on the inside, she is a
black hole.
she ****** me in
and i thought she was the light
at the end of the tunnel.
i must have been a traveller
stranded and thirsty in the desert
crawling towards mirages.
now i am helpless.
i am watching her line her legs with ink
as she tells me to make sure that she
doesn't line her legs
with blood.
meanwhile, i scratch deep
at an itch that isn't there
and call it catharsis.
i am seeing white tiles and
a translucent shower curtain and
a sink and soaps and everything is
normal—except the girl
sitting in a bathtub
naked without water
and bare skin has never made me feel more
ill.
what you hear:
ambient sounds.
my breathing, perhaps.
what i hear:
she hums like a Disney villain
brewing potions
and calling it tea. she looks
like a princess
but her words are witch's curses
and i'm hexed
under her spell,
hanging by a thread
to every word she's ever said
and somehow not noticing
the noose she looped around my neck.
darling, choke me
'til I can only breathe as well as your drowning lungs
as you gasp into your oxygen mask
what you see:
i'm having a panic attack.
what you hear:
i'm hyperventilating.
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 8:54 PM UTC
Fingernails dug out of steering wheel
in the out door, not enough gin to ****
50 pushups. 50 more. Change my body
Maybe you won't ignore
Ambien, the lull of the ceiling fan,
the crowds of protestors disband --
the blanket warm, cosmos tease and can,
malaise, malaise, I'm trying to be active
and sane, sane for the next promise ring holder
and wine cooler queen, here comes the switch:
ether.
The night brings me back to you
by way of illusion --
you've got lingerie
I've got needs
You've got teeth
I've got shoulder blades
so it begins,
white knuckle, culling songs, strain on scalp --
I sing along, ancient melody, satin dirge --
precursor to your soliloquy and black venom urge
to scatter this bandaged man--
pieces in your hand,
collected and left on 100 dressers
for ill-informed future connivers
conspire
but I'm only tired of trying not
to look like a liar
so I blend into your blood
satisfied smirk from
transparent you
but what is the future
--a present hope
but what is the past
--a present memory
so we abolish each other now
betting on tangible mirages
in this delicious, miraculous night
the stars align
the planets collide
not an inch of you goes unkissed
not an inch of me goes without an itch
blackness and breath swirl and spit
me into a confetti end time without prophet or priest
only a skinny seed, and then the switch:
wake with a present hope of getting over
my present memory.
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 5:37 PM UTC
Miles and miles of sand
with no horizon in view,
the caravan moves on -
in search of an oasis.
The heat is treacherous,
the sand is scorching,
the camels are tired
and so are the herdsmen.
The journey is long,
the day will almost be gone
and darkness will reign again
until another day dawns.
The desert’s dreadful distances,
the weather’s vicious whims,
the camels’ callous restlessness
all add to the herdsmen’s hardship.
Roadless tracks
of sand and rocks
where tall, wild cactuses abound
with many sand dunes around.
The Sahara -
a natural oven -
bakes humans and camels alike
leaving scattered mortal remains.
A sandy landscape
in shades of light fawn
with deceptive mirages
inviting thirst again.
The journey is long
with no sign of an oasis.
But the caravan must move on…
Inshallah – until we meet again.
Gita Ashok
9/10/2010, 3:15 pm
Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 1:58 AM UTC
Heaven whispered your name,
Lavender silk
Smooth upon lips,
****** to the flavour of destiny.......
Your tongue passed through mirages,
Tasting the warmth of my soul, like
Unexpected breaths washing upon
The shores of thirst;
Your white smile irising the sky...
I held my breath
...for, I needed to relish yours
Deeper than my sighs,
Into the depths of ache;
The pause in my heartbeat, lay tenderly
Balanced on the edge of your soul...
I dreamed the night's mist,
An omen of silken-soft, upon velvet petals,
An immaculate flower,
Conceived in the poetry of this delicate awakening;
The sweet intimacy
Pressed into the dark of my heart...
Your voice, became the
Hands that stripped me bare,
Wrapping around my essence like a myriad of
Forbidden elixir's, from fountains beyond the
Flinch of fingertips that
Traced the pulse of my thighs...
And your lips fell upon my body
In creases...
...those secret places...where
You arced the light of me,
A coruscation of eyes, beyond burn,
Changing darkness to blossom incandescence...
My pelvis, captured moistened moments
Quivering
Beneath the power of your descent;
Where I held you hostage
Upon this pillow of my heartbeat,
Levitated in the hush of your breath...
You painted me beautiful, in moonlight
With the brush of your lips, and
I needed you,
Needed you...
Alas...only the
Soft of shadows remain,
To light disrobed hours, where
Perfumed winds whisper
Precious echoes of your words;
Tracing the patient hues of roses, that will always dream
To sway in the twilight of your arms........
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 3:46 PM UTC
I question whether to hold you within or to let you go.
I stare at the life holding on to the nothingness,
Thinking I haven't done anything but held on to the emptiness,
Oh life, how do I let you pass me by everyday?
Oh life, how have I let you become so stagnant?
Trying to find the corners of the emptiness
I forgot how to look at you.
I know my priorities but not how I want to work for them,
I know what my goal should be but desert is all I see,
Mirages of the could've been and what ifs.
Emptiness, Why did I let you in? Why can't I let you out?
Emptiness, you are strong, though you make me weak.
You make me question my existence,
You make me believe my demons.
I wish I knew how to quit you,
But you are my companion,
The one that never leaves.
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
Small eyes that slowly grow,
See beautiful worlds turn ******
Sense that arrogance in people,
Sensuality turning minds lonely.
But, unspared this onslaught,
I hear thoughts within the dark recesses of my mind,
That shame and shock me,
Fearing to dig further, afraid of what I’ll find.
Chasing love into barren deserts,
Mirages and illusions leave me thirsty,
In the race to fill up the hole in your heart,
I am begging for love, where could it be?
Turn slowly to the lies we’re fed,
Inside and over time, we change our sights,
Till the point that rational belief is lost,
My disbelief with blind faith would fight.
One day I stood on the precipice of truth,
And love that overwhelms, I found it,
Hopelessness wasn’t my life anymore,
Because rags do not a prince befit.
Finally when his love overpowers my every doubt,
And we surrender to the flood of heaven,
That void inside is at last, filled,
With forgiveness, seven times seventy seven.
So if you struggle to believe in a god,
Who loves, lives and sets you free,
Get down on your knees and say,
“God if you are there, Show yourself to me”
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 12:59 AM UTC
Heat
unbearable, arid
blistering, irritating, sweltering
mirages, sunscreen, umbrellas, puddles
splashing, drumming, pouring
blissful, cool
rain.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 10:23 AM UTC