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"murkiness" poems
I am alive and I am terrified. Why does the future have to be this question mark, this puddle of murkiness wagging its finger to beg you to come closer, closer closer. Darkness lurches above me in halos circling brightly, making no sense I can see you, Future I can see everything I want to see but the waters won’t clear, the question mark won’t turn into an exclamation point, and you make me travel down the path farther farther farther into the unknown.
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Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 7:41 PM UTC
An Existential Crisis
I sprinkled sunflower petals in the warm water, to make it gold. Then dipped my body quietly in the bathtub, to wash my tainted soul.   The morning light peeked through the lemon coloured glass, while the fading fate dissolved in the pearly waves of my lash. My lifted hand reached for the sunlight, the feeble fingers swayed like dandelions. A swollen gaze perched on the broken mirror, a burning sensation impregnated my chafed lips; turning them bitter. The beauty they preach about is not divine, nothing in this world stays sublime. The saffron tinted ancient walls, kissed the amber tiled floor Everything fire; everything gold, yet no power can assuage the murkiness of my soul. My dear Van Gogh how could you think? that the yellow, if you eat, will lift your spirits?
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Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC
Under the Tuscan Sun
Love's misunderstood By the heart That’s unable to feel We give the meanings So many tags Yet, love’s above all We trivialize And jeopardize Expectations galore None that Love wants Above all our Laid down rules It’s akin to freedom We seem to burden It with materialistic Paraphernalia Love is rustic Most simple of feelings Complicated over the ages Converted to a drama Scripted by falsity It’s above those words Revealing the soul To a pristine feeling Thrown into murkiness Sinister deals Much effort to malign Beautiful Love Let Love be Away from Convoluted thoughts
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Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
Love Misinterpreted
Echoes of yesteryear’s Blissful laughter Fade away As new profound Sorrow blooms. Disoriented in the murkiness Of a wistful haze Writhing in unending Spasmodic aches A new day is born The mid-morning Deceptive sunshine Briefly kisses my skin The sweet taste Of what it means To be human The paralyzing Feeling of unraveling As the May icy winds whistle Through the eucalyptus trees Forbodes of calamity.
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC
Calamity
The sun is awfully mean these days      and the time for talk is past-- Fades aging, yellowed memories      reminds nothing ever lasts I told you once, You did not heed. Perhaps I spoke too loud. But I'll speak from the best side of me If you'll cool your temper down Who knows where we'll be in 5 years? I can't have it be here Can't pierce the brine and murkiness But today, it's warm and clear. So let's wreck our heads      with Red Hook Lager, Pedal down the road... 'Cause it's all that lies in front of us that we can ever know The clouds are overhead, my friend      but, bleak as this day seems, We will not came undone because      we are made with stronger seams If you tell me once, I'll try and heed The very best I can To what tops your list of memories As we go hand-in-hand You won't dwell upon next year If I don't hole up in pride That starts to seem so easy when We think back on that time... When we wrecked our bikes      on Gould and Brundage, Laughing, walked back home... And gingerly cleaned bleeding knees then watched movies alone And everything's okay      I prefer that, anyway Everything's okay.      And we're better off that way It's better than okay
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Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 11:41 AM UTC
Better
The ivory of the egotistical lily, The morning hymn of the pious jenny, The dazzling ebony African beauty, The sweet spice that seasons my honey, Rain thy glaring love once again Upon my careless dispirited pride, As I rain these tender tears Upon this stagnant dry land, I have tasted thy venial venom With seasonal ache and repentance, Now, purge my narrow breath of life From this wicked roaring hunter Who fire’s at my forlorn nights, Do not preserve this deficit of mine For our innocent image, Lest the gods of the City of the Dead Keep close to our naked hut, Calibrate my disobedience with thy soft wind, And let not thy fierce storm approach, Resurrect my muscles from the grave And cover my bones with the flesh of thy kisses, Open thy wonderful cataract to stream From thy tongue into my barren bones, And seal my cockcrow and thy twilight In the clouds of thy slender cotton wool, Come, oh my dear Kabutuwaa, Come and visit my farm this bedtime And let us **** the blazing stars mutually, Set free the promising arrow of my daylight And the pretty bow of thy nightfall Via the thick murkiness of this gulf, Allow me to crawl up thy tree of life And taste of its couple peach anew, For my craving lips longs for thy Indispensable eternal ****** © PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI Email: [email protected]
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Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
MY CRAVING LIPS
When my mind is at rest I think of peace and blissful things I see the unfettered and innocent smile of a new babe in arms Or the Omnipotence gilded arms outstretch showering blessings The shores of a pristine beach with blue waves marking times Silver sunset sprinkling magic across quiet waters with no stressing Or me sat at my fathers feet as he reads engrossed in his charmes My mind rests easy in places of warmth and enriching lovings My mind has no space to linger in the murkiness of failings I do not plunge dark dept to court the uninspiring s in terms To share company with wretches with wasted mental ecthings Eyes that see dew in darkness and acrimony in fruitless farms Voices made for howling dirges and apostles of negative cravings Demented downers who drink from the fountains of fallen vamps Satiated miserably they seek to retch their stench on followings My mind finds the luminous stars and praise their spark-lings It atunes to the silent melodies of sages who now sleep uncramp It relishes the delights of the million trillion wonders tinklings Its marvels the joys of the thousand mothers holding new champs Can share the lifting dreams of hopes for happy new beginnings Living is never about waste for the Creator avails no dumps For a mind that lives and grows in the Light is forever inspired and inspiring Copyright LaurencA.1stAugust2018.All rights reserved
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Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 7:54 PM UTC
How I See .....
I close my eyes: Blood trickles down my childhood memories, Torn flesh rips my innocence apart, Thick grey skin smothers my future, And the eyes…black beady eyes glaring at me, Daring me, whispering to me *Come in the water. Get your revenge. I won’t hurt you. You hurt me,* I force the words away, Pushing them, forcing them out, You know you want to, The blood drowns my heart, I can’t breathe! My lungs spurt red, Metallic death pools in my mouth, I want to be sick, I can’t be. My body jolts. Head snaps to the right, I hear the crunch, the breaking snap of my bones, The waves break. But the teeth don’t, They squeeze my wrist, stealing my hand, Blood captures my vision, The water explodes in red, Murkiness is around me… And grey skin…black eyes…one fin. My eyes burst open. Just like my artery did, There’s no grey skin or black eyes, Only blood seeping down my right hand, My only hand. The other? The ocean stole it. The shark stole it. I can’t bear to look at the stump that remains, So I close my eyes and the whole memory repeats Once again.
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Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 12:02 PM UTC
Shark Attack
It’s strange, really, how I find myself tangled in a relentless cycle of pause and play, of fast forward and rewind. So often I envision myself with my hands reached out in attempt to catch a moment in the air, to take hold of a feeling before its color dissolves into another collective memory. Emotions flutter anxiously between my fingers, like restless fireflies trapped inside glasses they cannot escape. But I do not wish to steal their euphoria, only to preserve it. They say I was born with a soul incapable of finding rest, possessing an interminable wanderlust that refused to dwindle. A blessing and a curse it was, the perpetual desire to hoard memories like expired love letters in the deepest trenches of my mind. I chased Love until my legs would give out beneath me, and even then I found myself crawling to graze its touch. Pause, play, rewind. A lethal dose of nostalgia. Each solitary moment dances to the tempo of my blood flow, the erratic heartbeats that remind me how alive I have become. I have taken them hostage. Each ephemeral moment, possessing a life so fleeting and bittersweet. The mellifluous echo of my favorite song being shouted at the top of my lungs, the familiar scent of the first book that stole my breath away. The first rush of freedom, the bewildering taste of loss, the initial weight of a damaged heart. Like fireflies, they emit an effervescent light that radiates through the darkest chasms of my mind. A focal point. A distraction. Something beautiful amidst the murkiness of tears and unrequited love. And I see their light shining through my fingertips, illuminating the gaps where nothing but absence exists, and I let go. They are free, an autonomous ray of light that floats through the spaces where I once felt so alone. But I am not alone anymore, I am never alone, because I’ve created something permanent. A home in the middle of nowhere. A shelter for the explanations I could never bring myself to elaborate upon. A dazzling luminescence that will never die out. We are everlasting.
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Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 3:03 PM UTC
Rewind
It’s strange, really, how I find myself tangled in a relentless cycle of pause and play, of fast forward and rewind. So often I envision myself with my hands reached out in attempt to catch a moment in the air, to take hold of a feeling before its color dissolves into another collective memory. Emotions flutter anxiously between my fingers, like restless fireflies trapped inside glasses they cannot escape. But I do not wish to steal their euphoria, only to preserve it. They say I was born with a soul incapable of finding rest, possessing an interminable wanderlust that refused to dwindle. A blessing and a curse it was, the perpetual desire to hoard memories like expired love letters in the deepest trenches of my mind. I chased Love until my legs would give out beneath me, and even then I found myself crawling to graze its touch. Pause, play, rewind. A lethal dose of nostalgia. Each solitary moment dances to the tempo of my blood flow, the erratic heartbeats that remind me how alive I have become. I have taken them hostage. Each ephemeral moment, possessing a life so fleeting and bittersweet. The mellifluous echo of my favorite song being shouted at the top of my lungs, the familiar scent of the first book that stole my breath away. The first rush of freedom, the bewildering taste of loss, the initial weight of a damaged heart. Like fireflies, they emit an effervescent light that radiates through the darkest chasms of my mind. A focal point. A distraction. Something beautiful amidst the murkiness of tears and unrequited love. And I see their light shining through my fingertips, illuminating the gaps where nothing but absence exists, and I let go. They are free, an autonomous ray of light that floats through the spaces where I once felt so alone. But I am not alone anymore, I am never alone, because I’ve created something permanent. A home in the middle of nowhere. A shelter for the explanations I could never bring myself to elaborate upon. A dazzling luminescence that will never die out. We are everlasting.
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10
I never see your face anymore The only image in my mind is your lovely, raven-colored hair I once had a dream about you You were facing away from me and woefully crying I never figured out why Around us, a pond of pallor was dotted with ghostly remnants of trees While I crossed the liquid fright, your cries grew in timbre No matter how close I was to your voice, it never seemed close enough I stopped and quickly glanced above because the Moon was crying too I never figured out why The wind’s touch gently blew your night-like hair against my closed eyes I confidently summoned all octaves residing within my soul But before I could call your name, they caught me Hands that sprung up from the sickness, eager to ****** my ankles My heartbroken whisper finally stopped the weeping I finally figured out why A dainty little head slowly turned so I could gaze at the jewels on its face Two rubies cascaded, their scarlet streams plummeting off pale cheeks While you returned to looking forwards, sobbing droplets of agony I felt unforgiving murkiness drag me down below
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May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 1:42 AM UTC
Nocternum
This October, the rain speaks pebbles like the sound of static. Watch the patterns the wind points out: the drifting rain, a question marking a crossroads path you keep asking to yourself. "if the rain keeps pouring, will our questions only pile up and up?" Gathering huge puddles under our doorstep reflecting an expressionless sky, or a sudden murkiness in it. how the rain touches the roofs of old gray houses sitting in silence. watch as a huge puddle gathers all other puddles, gathering minutes the seconds even, lost in counting. the rain starts drifting faster and faster, see how counting no longer counts, we feel a certain disconnection, again the sound of falling pebbles. Still, the rain keeps pouring its numerous what if's how it pins needles to our heads you ask and you only hear the long 'tchsssssh'-es filling up the empty spaces of my mouth, of our long silences that still count, to me. You slightly move your hand above your hair in a futile attempt to lessen the question of rain. (Paolo Jerome D. Cristobal / October 1, 2010 - Alabang)
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Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 7:30 AM UTC
The Question of Rain
(I) **Safe our Meriramew** It is propelled Towards the ground Clogged it, otherwise, rupture our Meriramew. (II) Tone of life   When you shine everything become dazzling and when you Whinge only twill of murkiness spread over!
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
Two stanza of protest
Poetry      f        a           l             l        s                           on caffeine waterf                                           a                                               l                                            l                                             s Smiles precipitate when the world smells of                 r                                                                              a                                                                         i                                                                                 n                                                                                        &                                                                                                       snows preferably.                          W hen water shines crystalline                       H ow lovely you look                                        E ngulfing me wholly                                        N ot never and forever always Blue cries tomorrow into golden sunshine dreams                                                                                          Slathered         beauty, hello, graceful morning                        thanks for crying daytime into existence Good morning to your tomorrow, tonight certainly shines clear in prolific murkiness of stars drowned in city light. Time is crestfallen when the sun sets and mourns the silenced sun away in a drunken stupor of creativity. The colours of delight glimmer in daybreak. Smile at the icicles today, they taste like water.
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Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 11:08 PM UTC
Poetry falls on caffeine waterfalls
Poetry      f        a           l             l        s                           on caffeine waterf                                           a                                               l                                            l                                             s Smiles precipitate when the world smells of                 r                                                                              a                                                                         i                                                                                 n                                                                                        &                                                                                                       snows preferably.                          W hen water shines crystalline                       H ow lovely you look                                        E ngulfing me wholly                                        N ot never and forever always Blue cries tomorrow into golden sunshine dreams                                                                                          Slathered         beauty, hello, graceful morning                        thanks for crying daytime into existence Good morning to your tomorrow, tonight certainly shines clear in prolific murkiness of stars drowned in city light. Time is crestfallen when the sun sets and mourns the silenced sun away in a drunken stupor of creativity. The colours of delight glimmer in daybreak. Smile at the icicles today, they taste like water.
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31
They lurk in all of us, like a black smog clogging up our moral judgement they creep and curl and consume our thoughts and innocent souls until we are corrupted with a false conception of reality and being. They tingle on ours tongues, spitting and hissing at anything honest and true, like a snake they warp us into a forked viper's venom - poisonous and irrevocable. They bite into our victims mind, spreading only negativity and misery; oozing with droplets encomposing all the evil of the world in a single minute sphere. They flash through our eyes, through our minds, across our hearts like dark shadows cloaking sincerity and simplicty leaving us to a life of complicated murkiness, having to plan our every move and conive and swindle our way through the maze of what is real and what isn't. They spin us in a web, Deceit; like a hungry spider awaits it's prey, always catching us in the end...always wrapping us nice and tight until there is no possible escape except to accept the truth- that you are about to get eaten by a "spider". One day we all get caught in our own web of lies, whether they be expressed towards others, or just as likely self-inflicted. And one day we all have to face the truth.
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Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 2:08 PM UTC
lies
is there a reason why dreamy voices spill out of every breathless breeze tracing the mystery of her fragrance? what causes the moon to yell its name into a golden softness of her aura permeating my desires? why does the sun set fire to the tranquil sea whenever her eyes shimmer down to daring depths of allure? where does the beckoning rhythm of gentle chaos lead into a pool of humble familiarity drenched in swirls of art? why do cold nights whisper her prayers while lullabies sing to the rolling raindrops upon eyes in a season of romance? how does the turbid murkiness of her silence shake my soul as raging roaring tides wrapped around a noise of lies? when do scared footsteps of gripping regrets mould a future laid upon mortified ashes as snowflakes lost in blizzards? and above all.. how does it all end for the both of us?
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Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
curious question
its starting to near october again the time of the year when everything goes to **** when the walls get smaller and smaller until my shoulders press in on themselves and i choke, choke, choke its starting to near october again the time of year when people show their true colors when my friends become judgmental cold mocking and the walls isolate me its starting to near october again my best friend's birthday halloween first report card of the year those are all okay things i have a bit of breathing room its starting to near october again the memories take a hold of me dragging me down into their murkiness taking the light from my mind replacing it with nothing nothing is there its starting to near october again i wish i wasn't alone
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May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 4:05 PM UTC
october
*A little heart, just like a beautiful mansion Ravishing & vast was it's expansion Beguile the people passing by As they, in awe, at it sigh Curious about it's interior beauty When it's frontage intrigued me I tried glancing inside it* "By looks can one be deceived" *Murkiness & desolation occupied The cobwebs spread wide The broken chandelier hung To the torn vault clung The guitar laid wrecked The floor full of dust Walls a decaying wreckage Everything damaged I entered a room at the nook By window, a table, by a slight touch shook On it was placed a pristine sketch Of whom it loved, on the edge*... All rights reserved By Ruman Hafsa
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Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 6:38 AM UTC
DECAYING
Staring out that great big window- with a slight sight of my boring reflection, staring up into the giant grey clouds engulfing my sunshine-my rays of life, Darkness creeps over the land, submerges everything that you know The building's turn gloomy, the power shuts off In the shadows i sit-the darkness is kind of familiar now. There wasn't even a suspicion of light. The murkiness of this ill light room was often friendly to me, it shared secrets of other peoples night life, and how they spent it- peeking in through the closet, he tells me- describing all of my unfortunate neighbors I'm lucky i befriended the darkness instead of abolishing it with- left on bathroom lights, and those jack-o-lantern night brights Each night he comes back with more smudged and smeared information- that he shares with me and only me. When i sleep he watches over me like a guardian demon- i wake i find no trace of him except under the bed and in that dark closet So i decided to board-up all the windows to never see the light of day again, in this dark temple i shall stay, to never speak of light or even think it In three weeks time The darkness overwhelms me, i can hardly see the light So i sit in my dark room and conjure up every terrible creature i can think of- hoping they come to life, and destroy this dark room The darkness feeling more and more like an addiction everyday- Two months now- all traces of life in me, in this house are forgotten The only memory i have is that of light peering in the darkness through the cracks in the boards-glowing, begging to come in and fill me with brilliance, but the darkness radiates through me- fending off the insight and intellect.
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Apr 2, 2010
Apr 2, 2010 at 9:24 AM UTC
darkness- consumes
Staring out that great big window- with a slight sight of my boring reflection, staring up into the giant grey clouds engulfing my sunshine-my rays of life, Darkness creeps over the land, submerges everything that you know The building's turn gloomy, the power shuts off In the shadows i sit-the darkness is kind of familiar now. There wasn't even a suspicion of light. The murkiness of this ill light room was often friendly to me, it shared secrets of other peoples night life, and how they spent it- peeking in through the closet, he tells me- describing all of my unfortunate neighbors I'm lucky i befriended the darkness instead of abolishing it with- left on bathroom lights, and those jack-o-lantern night brights Each night he comes back with more smudged and smeared information- that he shares with me and only me. When i sleep he watches over me like a guardian demon- i wake i find no trace of him except under the bed and in that dark closet So i decided to board-up all the windows to never see the light of day again, in this dark temple i shall stay, to never speak of light or even think it In three weeks time The darkness overwhelms me, i can hardly see the light So i sit in my dark room and conjure up every terrible creature i can think of- hoping they come to life, and destroy this dark room The darkness feeling more and more like an addiction everyday- Two months now- all traces of life in me, in this house are forgotten The only memory i have is that of light peering in the darkness through the cracks in the boards-glowing, begging to come in and fill me with brilliance, but the darkness radiates through me- fending off the insight and intellect.
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39
When she gets ill Everything disordered; Light and warmth amend, Day and night differ, Breeze revolutionize, Everything dismayed! When she gets ill Everyone distressed; Rivers and streams waste away, Birds are becoming shove, Flowers desiccated, Crops shrunken, Everything dirtied! When she gets ill Murkiness delimited us, Our aspiration and potency endanger; Let’s pray for her resurgence!
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May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 4:11 AM UTC
Pray for her
Part I: I, on the shore, so longing to dive in Felt your race car fast waves As they licked at my skin. I must admit, I was afraid Of what the murkiness hid But what intrigued me more Was how should I run in Part II Immersed in the water Both frigid and wild I felt a calm sense of self A peace, an everlasting smile Basking in your glow We fed off each other's auras What is the tide without the Moon? The ocean without it's shores? Part III Shivering, teeth clenched I was unprepared for this swim I only wanted my feet wet Now I'm left alone to fend It's not the ocean I despise For leaving me questioning and cold It's the reminder of the choice I made To race into the unknown.
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Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 3:46 AM UTC
Diving Deep
For the longest time, I thought that people with brown eyes were't as interesting as those without. But, you see, the reason those eyes are so dark is because they've seen too many things, and they know too much. Brown eyes are the see all and know all. They never miss a thing. You can't keep a secret from their depths. Do not be fooled by the murkiness of the waters. For the lake they contain is deeper than it seems.
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Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 10:43 PM UTC
Murky Waters
Monsters are depicted one dimensionally Paintings illustrate the difficult decisions This is the observer's farce Blood on one's hands paint the canvas Fingers comb through the valleys Defining the geography of pain Trauma sets in, and out goes precision Distorting one image to reflect another A change is needed in perspective's pallete Hands soak to wash away the day view The crimson stain nevers leaves, Vibrant ideas left to wade in the murkiness
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May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 3:39 PM UTC
Fingerpainting