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Ayad Gharbawi Jan 2010
PASSION PLAY

Ayad Gharbawi




Location: Desert Shore, Bitterly Cold Night, next to strong waves from the ocean.
Characters: Man ((M) and his Lover, a Woman (W).

----------------------------------------


W: “Search as I forever do, in manifold ways unknown, I seek but to love thee, and the meagre goodness from Life, with steely ardour - my armour faithful.”
M: “Alone I may be, and still, yes I love thee; these days heavy are and beset I am by burdensome trivialities, but I remain trusting, though my corner so narrow remain.”
W: “My Love! Your speech I hear aloud and thine lips I live within and yet, my Love, all Solitude I am. Man! I am unaided! In this journey of sinful thorns, my love, in this unforgiving journey, this blurred odyssey, I stand alone”.
M: “This trial you speak of, but I do know of it well; so, listen then: within the strength of trusted togetherness we can plough on, though everlasting harm shall do its spiteful tricks, warm to our united truth shall we remain.”
W: (Surprised) “O! My love! This thought I cannot hear! My life, my destiny, is but mine. And all have their own solitary roads of jagged rocks to embrace, like it we or not. We heartbreaking earthly sad beasts, either fiercely clutch at integrity, or we do let it go to perish away.”
M: (Confused) “My Love! I do hear, I do hear. But when Times decide on burdening us, what then can we achieve? To face Reality within the frail arms of solitude is to ignore, to refuse the severe threats of repulsive grins.”
(Silence)
M: (Passionately) “O! My sweet! Only in us, can we envelope, through joined, clasped warmth can we be as one united! The screams that so truly are meant to slice us off, only we, our Unity, can destroy. For mine eyes can only find sleep in your ears, and it is so - for otherwise nothing and no one can be.”
W: (Angry) “My Passion too is bubbling for thine bewildered ears. Am I not your soul? Do we not suffer as one? Do we not reflect as one? Am I not your lover true? Is not our warmth not weighty to our fickle bones?”
(Silence)
W: (Passionate) “But, Lover, this much ought I to formally declare unto thee: For our eyes, and all eyes, envision unequally at one another. Till eternity, in its casual, indifferent flicker, snatches at us all wretched mortals, the gazes from lords to paupers remain veritably mismatched. O my passion! My woeful heart! These words I thunder forth defines love unfeigned, and what mine eyes do pour out unto thine ears is authenticity true.
(Silence)
W: (Passionately) “What joined mem’ries you choose to caress may possess thee, but your exactness for what love is to you, doth not dwell in mine mind. What tears, what weepings you do, fall stormily upon thine own soul’s wildernesses. You choose to be chained by changing visions and indefinite sentiments of light weight – though so poignant at the moment they veritably are?”
M: (Inquiring) “My love! I cherish thee; where hast thou been in thine mind, for now ye talk of that truth you relate to in your heart. Your pronouncements, what depths I do feel! Can it perchance be that my passion has strayed our winds far from me?”
W: “No, my love! Why is anger, I feel, lush on thine tongue?”
M: (Surprised and Frightened) “Anger! I am too distant from that affliction! But yes, I feel my words make only for unstable murmurs in my breath.”
W: (Quietly) “Then, do tell me, lover, who do your murmurs betray - myself or yourself then?”
M: (Quietly) “Perhaps so, perhaps so. But my anxiety wilfully demands of me to eradicate your vision.”
W: (Firmly) “You answer naught from my undemanding question. Or, are mine meanings too violent for you? What aches thee?”
M: (Passionately) “My sweet! In so many moments, I created mysterious planets for thee! Bizarre worlds of contrasts and opposites and musical words of antiquity and sensual ravines. My love! I, my soul, my life, my inner deepest breath, tempted as I am by Fates’ inscrutable cruelties to ashamedly yield, I have yet always expressed to mine eyes’ heart, though they be in bleak darkness, to faithfully fight without pause all shades of vice and still yet - with loving integrity; I have stood with arms of righteousness and love for thee up and never down! Yes, sincere good and venal ill remain joined in life for all to feel, but you knew it was not for me to disentangle them. And so, I pronounce unto thee, still, and yet ever and ever more, my love for thee, though still beholding a thousand mountains before me, I remain sturdy for thee; I remain undisturbed by burly laws, and by exotic dictums, I stand fierce and unhurt, save in your absence.”
W: (With Sadness) “My beloved, your vivid voice stabs the falsehoods for thee, and I say unto thee, unto thee your excessive and unreasonable chains, and for myself my unreasonable and extreme chains remain.”
M: (Shocked) “But I burden thee with no steely chains, nor verbal fetters! For naught I produce for thee save grace, passion and freedom to love for us both to be in Unity Sacred! Dost thou embrace my visions as ‘shackles’, then ‘tis better we agree to class that which we are as but madness! Hear me, for my tears now must truly change their colours!”
W: (Determined) “Your feverish hands clutch only upon mine erratic wings!”
M: (Anger) “Never! Never! For I clutch only to destroy all malevolence; as for thee, Lady of the purest, untouched, guarded, secluded Ponds, I seek to unshackle for you the scattered, scared shadows that yearn for thine sovereignty. And what is this ‘sovereignty’ but our Sacred Union? What curse deemest you I impose? Do you equal my purest passions with atrocities? Murmur unto mine ears, your clearest love for me.”
W: “Ah! You enquire of me my ‘sincerity’ for thee? What demands!”
(Silence)
M: “I see naught but heaving forests of love betwixt us, and yet, you discover my words being ‘demanding’?”
W: (Drily) “Perchance, your visions are indistinct and ever more blurred, through these years cannot be ignored.”
M: (Begging) “My love! All mine life, though it be lengthy, I fought most venal tyranny, and for this moment, you question my righteousness?”
W: (Indignantly) “I have been plunged into seas hostile and I have plunged in a thousand miles of inert minds troubled beyond conceivable comprehension and I have yet to have my Right for my own greedy, ravenous flesh to be vigorously and forcefully embraced by sensuality and serenity. Yes, I do love thee, and yet in our union, as in all unions, I have been adorned with naught, save snickering, gossiping scenes of festive *****, games, chatter and farewells, themselves festooned within silly and sincerely stupid smiles and frowns, and shallow tears and never ending ludicrous chatter unworthy of monkeys conversing. I have met programmed rows of pats, respect and all other so-called decent intents and gestures, but, where, lover that you are of mine, where does my personal heart, throb and manically vibrate, save in your heavenly imaginations?”
(Silence)
W: (Quietly but Determinedly) “My love! I truly thee love and with passions, I tell you, of proportions of precise exactitudes; in your eyes I have witnessed symphonies of exquisiteness; and, I of thee ask: where dwelleth your own love for myself in thine body?”
(Silence)
W: (Passionate) “Do you recognise the changing structures that form this, that I name ‘My Love’? In my solitude eternal, I do evermore and always do pause, and be pensive, and be thinking of questions, such as ‘where’, ‘why’, ‘when’ ‘how’, and ‘which’ should be my path; I am forever and ever more searching, seeking the heavens of every corner, and the irritable tempests, within my changing self as they themselves do try to seek me, and we forever, through inconceivable murkiness, do try to assemble the everlasting entirety of these disorganized puzzles into some measure of comprehensible cohesion that ‘I’ am. That is how the ‘I’ you love is forever changing and thereby formulating itself, and within all these meandering passions, and endless errors, where am I to feel thee? Where? And where do you seek me? In which land? In which forest? You trivialise my beingness as you focus upon my lands as being that which so effortless to find, and yet, you are much too distant from an understanding of my conflicting, emerging civilisations.”
(Silence)
W: (Passionate) If the utterance ‘Never’ is pathetic for thee, then allow me to introduce you to my latest heart: for it screams out that single, protracted utterance! Never! My love, these winds of raging wraths, both within and outside by flesh, must and can only be annihilated by mine own sincerities – were I not to play against my own self. My uncontrolled desires and, yes, thirsty manic passions can only be tempered and thoroughly satiated to the utter brim, by mine own loving, sources of pleasure, my own uncontrollable ecstasies. As for the rest of ****** pleasures, my own erroneous words, speeches and utterances can only be severed and sliced by my tranquillity.”
M: (Resigned) “I hear thine words. Do not abandon me. Do not destroy our civilisation of justice.”
W: “What we share, the bonds, are enjoyment. Listen though to mine lips: enjoyment is what - when it is to be compared with convulsive ecstatic quivers of satisfaction?”
M: (Puzzled) “And what of all our journeys to attain that unity? For all that, is it to be of mere insignificance? And if that be your truth, for what then did we toil and labour for unity of minds and bodies?”
W: (Laughing) “Did you understand from Life itself, that here it was, grandly to proclaim its furtive faces unto thine own awaiting face?! “
M: (Baffled) “It was so far too plain and vastly clear unto me these sceneries we faced before our loving bodies.”
W: “Yes, and I too, did see them with thee. Our four eyes, did see unity for that flicker of time. How true you speak! But, time clocked on, I saw you as you stood there, moving nowhere, unawares that it was your duty to squash onwards whatever vile breaths faced us.”
M: (Desperate) “And did I not? Did I abandon thee in these crushing paths?”
W: (Accusing) “No, you did not. Never, once did you abandon me. I ask of thee; for what sense do we feel a need for a continuation of these gruelling marches? For unity? For love? Or, is love unity? Was that and is this our reason for us to carry on with these shackles?”
M: “For assuredly, yes, and more yes, I tell thee! Toil and gruelling dawns, and unbearable evenings and the whitest of nights are all for the sacred attainment of that heavenly summit of joy I name as blessed ‘Love’.”
W: (Assured) “And, Sire, what if my nerves, blood and ****** hunger tell thee in truth that we, all of us, need no longer, and need never in truth, to undertake these paths, for we find naught that nourishes us at the blessed summit of your definition of what ‘Love’ is?”
M: (Confused & Sad) “So, I falter here and now upon understanding your speech; do I reason from thee that our loving days in unity are frivolously bygone now?”
W: (Calmly & Gracefully) “Do the wandering birds, and do the blind bats, and do the reckless storms, and do the blindly, raging waves and do the supremely arrogant oceans eternally march on in but one direction only with the savage passage of time within their particular lives? You did pronounce that you built planets for our unity; well then, did you not view how planets endlessly revolve along the same path?”
(Pause)
W: (Calmly & with Dignity) “For, Sire, I am not as a Planet - could you not feel that throughout our journeys? You endlessly query and question ‘who’ it is that ‘I’ am? Well, I speak this much on myself; I am as the birds, and the bats, and the storms and the waves and the oceans.”  
M: (Angry) “Woman! I can only then tell of thee that you are naught but feuding clutter and violent disarray!”
W: (Unconcerned) “Those are your words. Not mine. Speak for what you wish, Sire.”
M: (Angry) “And I stand here, before thee, in anger – nay, more, more! In fury!”
W: (Laughing) “For what? For the deeds that created but sticky, and grimy grains of sand for the undoubted pleasure our eyes?”
M: “And so you label our truths, our love so much! Fair indeed, you speak, Woman of Justice.”
W: (Arrogantly) “Man! Express your delights for your own delights. And, alas, there the circle and reality ends – and it ends only for you. That is one morsel of truth for you to ponder. What we ‘created’ and what we ‘loved’ was never and never, ever be the same for you as it is for me. Are you a sincere believer that your personal vision is the same sight all other seeing creatures envision?”
M: (Angry) “Woman, you enrage me! Your arrogance is drenching thine rags.”
W: (Sarcastic) “Tis the Man with no reason who allows his breath and words to be a veritable cesspool of fuming stenches!”
M: “But I, that I am, no longer can define your contours?”
W: (Pointedly) “Precisely, Man, precisely. Perhaps, now you have come closer to the vulnerable shores of reality!”
M: (Confused) “Do you express that you are ever varying and so for that reason there is not a one unified you?”
W: (Calmly) “For we are all ‘varying’, to borrow your word – if you do so allow me, Sire. There was never ‘unity’ of soul, nor mind, nor self, nor of any one personality. This, I desire, that you may understand.”
M: (Aghast) “Then if that be your truth and then, are we naught but multitudes of ever changing confusions, Lady of the Desert?”
W: (Calmly) “Yes and no! For those who are muscular and full of fertile vigour in their flesh, and in their intellects, and those that are severely and strictly scholastic, then they do need and they can succeed in time, in their never ending struggle to bring together the mutually antagonistic factions of that which constitutes our beingness. And, as for the dense brained soulless beings, then, it is equally veritably true that, a descent into madness can be rapidly produced, since from their erratic constituents, they cannot attract together these antagonistic and mutually-hating emotions in some vision of cohesion, and thus mayhem can be fashioned.”
(Silence)
M: (Calmly) “So, pray do tell me, where does Love and Justice and Truth and Morality stand in your universe?”
W: (Serenely) “That has been mine desire to hear the words being produced from your lips, Man!”
(Pause)
W: “So, now perhaps, your sight may be getting clearer, for your question is certainly apt. Foremost, we pathetic mortals, we the be are forever slimy specks of sand that  crumbles, must necessarily seek to survive and flourish within whatever forest, desert, meadow we find ourselves cast upon.”
M: (Startled) “At what cost, Woman? At the expense of Morality?”
W: (Rapidly) “Yes and no.”
M: (Shocked) “Horrendous! How can you spout out such filth?”
W: (Quietly) “Restrain your stupidities, and give more room to your intelligence, Sire.”
(Silence)
W: (Gracefully) “In times of trouble, what can Man do when he be forced to embrace evil, even though he finds the act of the embrace loathsome, but he does what he does for the truth of his vital existence to continue. Only when he need never embrace vile, and then allows himself to commit the act, then he is for certainty to incur the everlasting wrath of God. Evil is thus never one truth to be utterly rejected, perchance you may now see. ”
M: (Calm but Tired) “I follow your words and their ideas therein.”
W: (Gracefully) “When you talk to me on Man and everlasting, conflicting changes within that self-same creature, I tell you with all the earnestness that I possess, of what God has scattered and endowed upon me; for this beast, we all call in unity Man, this creature has far too many a numberless number of mutually self-contradicting, distrusting, loving, hating, inspiring and a never ending number of feelings and emotions that are in constant flow and change – as in any rapid river descending unto its eventual destination, which in its case, is the sea, while in our case, it is Death itself for sure.”
M: (Despair) “And how can this beast ‘love’ anyone within this welter of confusion?”
W: (Rapidly) “He cannot!”
M: (Rapidly, Begging) “But Man and Woman do love with bristling passions! Do you deny that, Woman?!”
W: (Calmly, eyes downwards looking) “Yes, and no. Since the beast has needs, based on his vastly intricate constituents, to ‘love’ his fellow beast, he imagines and believes
Ayad Gharbawi Jan 2010
PASSION PLAY

Ayad Gharbawi




Location: Desert Shore, Bitterly Cold Night, next to strong waves from the ocean.
Characters: Man ((M) and his Lover, a Woman (W).

----------------------------------------



W: “Search as I forever do, in manifold ways unknown, I seek but to love thee, and the meagre goodness from Life, with steely ardour - my armour faithful.”
M: “Alone I may be, and still, yes I love thee; these days heavy are and beset I am by burdensome trivialities, but I remain trusting, though my corner so narrow remain.”
W: “My Love! Your speech I hear aloud and thine lips I live within and yet, my Love, all Solitude I am. Man! I am unaided! In this journey of sinful thorns, my love, in this unforgiving journey, this blurred odyssey, I stand alone”.
M: “This trial you speak of, but I do know of it well; so, listen then: within the strength of trusted togetherness we can plough on, though everlasting harm shall do its spiteful tricks, warm to our united truth shall we remain.”
W: (Surprised) “O! My love! This thought I cannot hear! My life, my destiny, is but mine. And all have their own solitary roads of jagged rocks to embrace, like it we or not. We heartbreaking earthly sad beasts, either fiercely clutch at integrity, or we do let it go to perish away.”
M: (Confused) “My Love! I do hear, I do hear. But when Times decide on burdening us, what then can we achieve? To face Reality within the frail arms of solitude is to ignore, to refuse the severe threats of repulsive grins.”
(Silence)
M: (Passionately) “O! My sweet! Only in us, can we envelope, through joined, clasped warmth can we be as one united! The screams that so truly are meant to slice us off, only we, our Unity, can destroy. For mine eyes can only find sleep in your ears, and it is so - for otherwise nothing and no one can be.”
W: (Angry) “My Passion too is bubbling for thine bewildered ears. Am I not your soul? Do we not suffer as one? Do we not reflect as one? Am I not your lover true? Is not our warmth not weighty to our fickle bones?”
(Silence)
W: (Passionate) “But, Lover, this much ought I to formally declare unto thee: For our eyes, and all eyes, envision unequally at one another. Till eternity, in its casual, indifferent flicker, snatches at us all wretched mortals, the gazes from lords to paupers remain veritably mismatched. O my passion! My woeful heart! These words I thunder forth defines love unfeigned, and what mine eyes do pour out unto thine ears is authenticity true.
(Silence)
W: (Passionately) “What joined mem’ries you choose to caress may possess thee, but your exactness for what love is to you, doth not dwell in mine mind. What tears, what weepings you do, fall stormily upon thine own soul’s wildernesses. You choose to be chained by changing visions and indefinite sentiments of light weight – though so poignant at the moment they veritably are?”
M: (Inquiring) “My love! I cherish thee; where hast thou been in thine mind, for now ye talk of that truth you relate to in your heart. Your pronouncements, what depths I do feel! Can it perchance be that my passion has strayed our winds far from me?”
W: “No, my love! Why is anger, I feel, lush on thine tongue?”
M: (Surprised and Frightened) “Anger! I am too distant from that affliction! But yes, I feel my words make only for unstable murmurs in my breath.”
W: (Quietly) “Then, do tell me, lover, who do your murmurs betray - myself or yourself then?”
M: (Quietly) “Perhaps so, perhaps so. But my anxiety wilfully demands of me to eradicate your vision.”
W: (Firmly) “You answer naught from my undemanding question. Or, are mine meanings too violent for you? What aches thee?”
M: (Passionately) “My sweet! In so many moments, I created mysterious planets for thee! Bizarre worlds of contrasts and opposites and musical words of antiquity and sensual ravines. My love! I, my soul, my life, my inner deepest breath, tempted as I am by Fates’ inscrutable cruelties to ashamedly yield, I have yet always expressed to mine eyes’ heart, though they be in bleak darkness, to faithfully fight without pause all shades of vice and still yet - with loving integrity; I have stood with arms of righteousness and love for thee up and never down! Yes, sincere good and venal ill remain joined in life for all to feel, but you knew it was not for me to disentangle them. And so, I pronounce unto thee, still, and yet ever and ever more, my love for thee, though still beholding a thousand mountains before me, I remain sturdy for thee; I remain undisturbed by burly laws, and by exotic dictums, I stand fierce and unhurt, save in your absence.”
W: (With Sadness) “My beloved, your vivid voice stabs the falsehoods for thee, and I say unto thee, unto thee your excessive and unreasonable chains, and for myself my unreasonable and extreme chains remain.”
M: (Shocked) “But I burden thee with no steely chains, nor verbal fetters! For naught I produce for thee save grace, passion and freedom to love for us both to be in Unity Sacred! Dost thou embrace my visions as ‘shackles’, then ‘tis better we agree to class that which we are as but madness! Hear me, for my tears now must truly change their colours!”
W: (Determined) “Your feverish hands clutch only upon mine erratic wings!”
M: (Anger) “Never! Never! For I clutch only to destroy all malevolence; as for thee, Lady of the purest, untouched, guarded, secluded Ponds, I seek to unshackle for you the scattered, scared shadows that yearn for thine sovereignty. And what is this ‘sovereignty’ but our Sacred Union? What curse deemest you I impose? Do you equal my purest passions with atrocities? Murmur unto mine ears, your clearest love for me.”
W: “Ah! You enquire of me my ‘sincerity’ for thee? What demands!”
(Silence)
M: “I see naught but heaving forests of love betwixt us, and yet, you discover my words being ‘demanding’?”
W: (Drily) “Perchance, your visions are indistinct and ever more blurred, through these years cannot be ignored.”
M: (Begging) “My love! All mine life, though it be lengthy, I fought most venal tyranny, and for this moment, you question my righteousness?”
W: (Indignantly) “I have been plunged into seas hostile and I have plunged in a thousand miles of inert minds troubled beyond conceivable comprehension and I have yet to have my Right for my own greedy, ravenous flesh to be vigorously and forcefully embraced by sensuality and serenity. Yes, I do love thee, and yet in our union, as in all unions, I have been adorned with naught, save snickering, gossiping scenes of festive *****, games, chatter and farewells, themselves festooned within silly and sincerely stupid smiles and frowns, and shallow tears and never ending ludicrous chatter unworthy of monkeys conversing. I have met programmed rows of pats, respect and all other so-called decent intents and gestures, but, where, lover that you are of mine, where does my personal heart, throb and manically vibrate, save in your heavenly imaginations?”
(Silence)
W: (Quietly but Determinedly) “My love! I truly thee love and with passions, I tell you, of proportions of precise exactitudes; in your eyes I have witnessed symphonies of exquisiteness; and, I of thee ask: where dwelleth your own love for myself in thine body?”
(Silence)
W: (Passionate) “Do you recognise the changing structures that form this, that I name ‘My Love’? In my solitude eternal, I do evermore and always do pause, and be pensive, and be thinking of questions, such as ‘where’, ‘why’, ‘when’ ‘how’, and ‘which’ should be my path; I am forever and ever more searching, seeking the heavens of every corner, and the irritable tempests, within my changing self as they themselves do try to seek me, and we forever, through inconceivable murkiness, do try to assemble the everlasting entirety of these disorganized puzzles into some measure of comprehensible cohesion that ‘I’ am. That is how the ‘I’ you love is forever changing and thereby formulating itself, and within all these meandering passions, and endless errors, where am I to feel thee? Where? And where do you seek me? In which land? In which forest? You trivialise my beingness as you focus upon my lands as being that which so effortless to find, and yet, you are much too distant from an understanding of my conflicting, emerging civilisations.”
(Silence)
W: (Passionate) If the utterance ‘Never’ is pathetic for thee, then allow me to introduce you to my latest heart: for it screams out that single, protracted utterance! Never! My love, these winds of raging wraths, both within and outside by flesh, must and can only be annihilated by mine own sincerities – were I not to play against my own self. My uncontrolled desires and, yes, thirsty manic passions can only be tempered and thoroughly satiated to the utter brim, by mine own loving, sources of pleasure, my own uncontrollable ecstasies. As for the rest of ****** pleasures, my own erroneous words, speeches and utterances can only be severed and sliced by my tranquillity.”
M: (Resigned) “I hear thine words. Do not abandon me. Do not destroy our civilisation of justice.”
W: “What we share, the bonds, are enjoyment. Listen though to mine lips: enjoyment is what - when it is to be compared with convulsive ecstatic quivers of satisfaction?”
M: (Puzzled) “And what of all our journeys to attain that unity? For all that, is it to be of mere insignificance? And if that be your truth, for what then did we toil and labour for unity of minds and bodies?”
W: (Laughing) “Did you understand from Life itself, that here it was, grandly to proclaim its furtive faces unto thine own awaiting face?! “
M: (Baffled) “It was so far too plain and vastly clear unto me these sceneries we faced before our loving bodies.”
W: “Yes, and I too, did see them with thee. Our four eyes, did see unity for that flicker of time. How true you speak! But, time clocked on, I saw you as you stood there, moving nowhere, unawares that it was your duty to squash onwards whatever vile breaths faced us.”
M: (Desperate) “And did I not? Did I abandon thee in these crushing paths?”
W: (Accusing) “No, you did not. Never, once did you abandon me. I ask of thee; for what sense do we feel a need for a continuation of these gruelling marches? For unity? For love? Or, is love unity? Was that and is this our reason for us to carry on with these shackles?”
M: “For assuredly, yes, and more yes, I tell thee! Toil and gruelling dawns, and unbearable evenings and the whitest of nights are all for the sacred attainment of that heavenly summit of joy I name as blessed ‘Love’.”
W: (Assured) “And, Sire, what if my nerves, blood and ****** hunger tell thee in truth that we, all of us, need no longer, and need never in truth, to undertake these paths, for we find naught that nourishes us at the blessed summit of your definition of what ‘Love’ is?”
M: (Confused & Sad) “So, I falter here and now upon understanding your speech; do I reason from thee that our loving days in unity are frivolously bygone now?”
W: (Calmly & Gracefully) “Do the wandering birds, and do the blind bats, and do the reckless storms, and do the blindly, raging waves and do the supremely arrogant oceans eternally march on in but one direction only with the savage passage of time within their particular lives? You did pronounce that you built planets for our unity; well then, did you not view how planets endlessly revolve along the same path?”
(Pause)
W: (Calmly & with Dignity) “For, Sire, I am not as a Planet - could you not feel that throughout our journeys? You endlessly query and question ‘who’ it is that ‘I’ am? Well, I speak this much on myself; I am as the birds, and the bats, and the storms and the waves and the oceans.”  
M: (Angry) “Woman! I can only then tell of thee that you are naught but feuding clutter and violent disarray!”
W: (Unconcerned) “Those are your words. Not mine. Speak for what you wish, Sire.”
M: (Angry) “And I stand here, before thee, in anger – nay, more, more! In fury!”
W: (Laughing) “For what? For the deeds that created but sticky, and grimy grains of sand for the undoubted pleasure our eyes?”
M: “And so you label our truths, our love so much! Fair indeed, you speak, Woman of Justice.”
W: (Arrogantly) “Man! Express your delights for your own delights. And, alas, there the circle and reality ends – and it ends only for you. That is one morsel of truth for you to ponder. What we ‘created’ and what we ‘loved’ was never and never, ever be the same for you as it is for me. Are you a sincere believer that your personal vision is the same sight all other seeing creatures envision?”
M: (Angry) “Woman, you enrage me! Your arrogance is drenching thine rags.”
W: (Sarcastic) “Tis the Man with no reason who allows his breath and words to be a veritable cesspool of fuming stenches!”
M: “But I, that I am, no longer can define your contours?”
W: (Pointedly) “Precisely, Man, precisely. Perhaps, now you have come closer to the vulnerable shores of reality!”
M: (Confused) “Do you express that you are ever varying and so for that reason there is not a one unified you?”
W: (Calmly) “For we are all ‘varying’, to borrow your word – if you do so allow me, Sire. There was never ‘unity’ of soul, nor mind, nor self, nor of any one personality. This, I desire, that you may understand.”
M: (Aghast) “Then if that be your truth and then, are we naught but multitudes of ever changing confusions, Lady of the Desert?”
W: (Calmly) “Yes and no! For those who are muscular and full of fertile vigour in their flesh, and in their intellects, and those that are severely and strictly scholastic, then they do need and they can succeed in time, in their never ending struggle to bring together the mutually antagonistic factions of that which constitutes our beingness. And, as for the dense brained soulless beings, then, it is equally veritably true that, a descent into madness can be rapidly produced, since from their erratic constituents, they cannot attract together these antagonistic and mutually-hating emotions in some vision of cohesion, and thus mayhem can be fashioned.”
(Silence)
M: (Calmly) “So, pray do tell me, where does Love and Justice and Truth and Morality stand in your universe?”
W: (Serenely) “That has been mine desire to hear the words being produced from your lips, Man!”
(Pause)
W: “So, now perhaps, your sight may be getting clearer, for your question is certainly apt. Foremost, we pathetic mortals, we the be are forever slimy specks of sand that  crumbles, must necessarily seek to survive and flourish within whatever forest, desert, meadow we find ourselves cast upon.”
M: (Startled) “At what cost, Woman? At the expense of Morality?”
W: (Rapidly) “Yes and no.”
M: (Shocked) “Horrendous! How can you spout out such filth?”
W: (Quietly) “Restrain your stupidities, and give more room to your intelligence, Sire.”
(Silence)
W: (Gracefully) “In times of trouble, what can Man do when he be forced to embrace evil, even though he finds the act of the embrace loathsome, but he does what he does for the truth of his vital existence to continue. Only when he need never embrace vile, and then allows himself to commit the act, then he is for certainty to incur the everlasting wrath of God. Evil is thus never one truth to be utterly rejected, perchance you may now see. ”
M: (Calm but Tired) “I follow your words and their ideas therein.”
W: (Gracefully) “When you talk to me on Man and everlasting, conflicting changes within that self-same creature, I tell you with all the earnestness that I possess, of what God has scattered and endowed upon me; for this beast, we all call in unity Man, this creature has far too many a numberless number of mutually self-contradicting, distrusting, loving, hating, inspiring and a never ending number of feelings and emotions that are in constant flow and change – as in any rapid river descending unto its eventual destination, which in its case, is the sea, while in our case, it is Death itself for sure.”
M: (Despair) “And how can this beast ‘love’ anyone within this welter of confusion?”
W: (Rapidly) “He cannot!”
M: (Rapidly, Begging) “But Man and Woman do love with bristling passions! Do you deny that, Woman?!”
W: (Calmly, eyes downwards looking) “Yes, and no. Since the beast has needs, based on his vastly intricate constituents, to ‘love’ his fellow beast, he imagines and believes
Andrew Guzaldo c Dec 2018
“In the murkiness of days that lay afore our souls,
All one needs to do is reach out a hand to one loved,
And I will be there the light I bare may not suffice,
However holding hands we shall go on our journey,

I believe there is redemption when one bares fervor,  
There is famine importuned in giving of our hearts,
When your desire for one is not returned equally,
Nothing in the world will compensate for that loss,

The most reclusive place to be is being in love,  
Shall I digest my heartache or just live in rage,
With those equitable spirits that I wear triumphantly,
Once that stood afore first and in a state of love,

I have been wounded by her wandering scent before me,
I shall shed no tears being strong always and forever,
The loud uplifting of angel shophar bellowing afar,
Her voice may rightly answer that mellifluous synthesis,

I shall wait to hold your hand as we arrive in the distant,
After I take my last breath I shall wait an eternity for thee.
And then only than my murkiness of days will be gone"
    By Andrew Guzaldo © 12/21/2018
By Andrew Guzaldo © 12/21/2018   #Poem#144 Hello Poetry
E Townsend Nov 2016
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.
The Sun is eclipsed, for how long? I do not know
It used to be warm, cheery and a source of energy
Now, just blackness, bitterness, and an ugly taste in my mouth

The darkness has been my enemy for most of my life
Unable to share the reasons this is for fear of it taking over
My dreams try to clean my mind as the inky black eats away at me

Praise, compliments, hope, prayers, and well wishes work against the eclipse
Honestly they just don't break through that evil and vile black
You might wonder why, but it is something that must be felt not told

It is soo dark the ring around the outside is blinding but it lights up nothing
Self-doubt, Self-worth, Self-esteem, feelings of being ****, desireable, all being slurped up with the thick dark energy
Words, words, words, and more words they don't begin to help

The glimmer of hope is squashed with one word from him
I have become a married girlfriend as she becomes a girlfriend wife
How ****** up is that?  Do you not see?  I cannot breathe as it suffocates me

The eclipse is not an eclipse at all it is him cuttting off all light that makes me thrive
He makes sure I am helpless to fight by making sure I am numb
It is a mind **** for sure that I cannot see

I work hard to push the thick indigo away
It is brought back with one word, or one look
Offering help with one hand as the other stabs my heart

I pray and show strength for our child
Needless to say she knows the truth and says I am not hiding it well
What the hell am I supposed to say when he leaves to go out with friends?

Her tears feed the beast that burdens me
The fears make it stronger and more overwhelming each day
It is winning can't you see?  Taking over with each passing hour

The nights I turn and reach out for him
Night after night the rock always there
Now it feels like quicksand ******* me down

I am numb, why can't I fight?  What is stopping me?
Tell him to get out they say, Make him leave
If I do that the murkiness will turn to something worse

The cimmerian shade looms day by day
His words are from a serpant's tongue trying to have it both ways
I am being consumed by something worse than incurable cancer
It is taking all of my independence and ****** self confidence away

SMACK
Yes that would sound good, as my hand met her face
I ask myself what has this world come to when a young woman's parents think it is ok for her to break up a solid family

You ******* ***** Jennifer
STOP
Tell Him to go to her and learn that the grass is always greener when all you do is play, no responsibility, no bills to pay
He is the idiot not you
He is the one breaking the vow said before God and all
Let the darkness consume him and chase it away from me*

If only I could say all of that but I love far to much
Crazy I know, as I watch the concealing darkness consume me*

Don't let this happen to you, hold on tightly and keep faith in your heart

_______________

I realize this poem does not make a lot of sense.  It is very cathartic for me.  I don't expect anyone to like it or say it is any good.  It was just something I needed to write and get out of my mind.  Thank you everyone.
Written by Jennifer Humphrey 11-23-10
Afia Nov 2018
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?
Van Gogh's work has always inspired me and his health issues are relatable to an extreme end for me. Most of the time I feel like he is the muse while I create my work.
Amitav Radiance Feb 2015
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
The Noose May 2014
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.
Juliana Apr 2021
Vanilla. The bitter scent of a coffeehouse
mixed with sweet beautiful intelligence;
perfection; spontaneity.

Words run on the pages, joy can be found
in even the smallest of things.
Grounded; confident.

The white of innocence, not a single stain,
multicolored beige brings professionalism
in all its forms.

Life is a game of who knows who.
It’s impossible not to know her.

Abstract strings are pulled and tugged
until even the sturdiest of structures fall,
leaving the remnants on the ground to be
picked up one by one.

A sole painting filled with the reds of anger,
of love. The black and white stark
against the murkiness. Even the gold,
highlighting what went missing.

One. They’re still one. A little girl,
the blond bundles pulled into two
on the top of her head, seeing the world
from her father’s eyes.

Childish; just like he was,
once upon a time.

Just like he was, when those eyes focused
on the tough blue of denim, when
a fight was never an argument,
it was a game.

Who is right, who is wrong,
none of that matters if one never
backs down. She would never
back down.

She was never spontaneous.
She was a planner. Always one
to hold a grudge, always one
to win.

She was first. First
kiss, first love,
first date.

Her hair fell down on her shoulders
in curls, down in spirals
bringing him down as he fell.

He fell hard, looping back around
to the other side. Choosing jeans
over a painting. Choosing the chaos
over the calm. Choosing the calm
of a fight over nothing at all.

It was with her
that he’d find his love story.
Kyle Kulseth Oct 2012
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
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: nanaspeaks@gmail.com
Yenson Aug 2018
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
George Arkley Jan 2013
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.
Michelle Garcia Jun 2015
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.
Kush May 2016
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
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)
2nd Prize Winner - POETRY CATEGORY - Cesar S. Tiangco Literary Awards 2011
Jayanta May 2014
(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!
‘Meriramew’ is a Khasi word; means mother Earth. These are the expression of  torment common Khasi Man and women who protest against illegal mining, unwanted sprawling of developmental displacement.
tranquil Dec 2013
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?
Dane Johnson Feb 2012
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.
josh nunn Dec 2013
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.
- May 2013
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
Ruman Hafsa Oct 2016
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
Jayanta May 2014
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!
Juliana Apr 2021
I am not a monster.
My veins are the same
purplish hue as yours.
Pricked by the same needle,
an arrow can penetrate
my body, soul escaping
my still-beating heart.

I cling to your words.
I want to know your soul,
your deepest insecurities,
the smallest bits of joy.
I want to be in love.

The universe is a gallery,
each star a mosaic of art,
colliding and combining
to create beauty;
a masterpiece;
you.
I could look at you for eons.

*

I am not to be perceived
by capitalistic powerhouses.
Life is not a final boss,
requiring each day
to serve as a minigame,
collecting coins and
jumping blocks until
I reach the Bowzer.

I live for myself,
the sole goal of
collecting knowledge
and seeing stars
until my final breath,
at which I can say my life
felt complete once I knew
that every single person
I met had smiled.

I will not live by
checking boxes off a form,
stats gathered frequently
on if I’m living it right.
Because there is no right.

There are only idealistic fantasies
that maybe if I run fast enough,
I could one day hope to reach.
There is the rustic murkiness
of yesteryear attempting to
****** its claws on my soul.
It will not win.

This game of mine
may not be multiplayer,
nor do I have the cheat codes,
but I am having fun,
I am exploring the world,
and I will not listen—
never listen—to you saying
that I am playing it wrong.
Pdub Feb 2015
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.
The only way to describe our love
Is by a meticulously mixed metaphor.
sol Jan 2016
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.
it's late and i'm thinking
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.
Esther Feb 2016
Fragility is an electric blue
Shock in your system
From which you twist resistance
Gifted to hands open and begging
Consoling the green murkiness
Of people’s forced emptiness
Filling their scaffolding with
Temporary steadiness
Your abandonment shatters
Into heart shaped glass shards
He picks up even though they cut
And his blood brings no fear
Because your reality is malleable
And wounds are fixable
With scars becoming loopholes
Into worlds of distorted art
Branching out of lines protruding
Introducing your skin before your scars
I see the clearing of newly planted
Seeds of future possibility
In the words you gather
Passing by flowers scented with
All the aromas that haunt you
From your youth
Just to string a sentence
For one surrounded by the obtuse
Entirety of reigning bleakness
You are a beacon of what we
Dream to grow up to be
A star in the morning sky
You shine you shine you shine.
Jack Trainer Aug 2014
A mood as dark as a winters midnight
Haltingly adrift, she is rudderless
Bound to a coastal route
As she nears the quay, she cries out
But emits no sound
As strong currents
Guide her soul
To deeper depths
And perils
Where light has no importance
A salient angle away and afar
She collapses in upon herself, like the Black Hole
Black does not describe its murkiness
She is lost to humanity
Devin Ortiz May 2016
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
Ami Shae Jan 2016
I found myself floating in the dark dungeon
gasping for breath--for it was filled with murky water
and all I could do was float (I don't know how to swim)--
I opened my eyes and no light came through
only wet and cold and bone chilling pain
and I considered for a moment (or was it two or three)
of just letting go
and allowing the murkiness to swallow me--
all I would have to do
is stop trying to float
and allow myself to sink below
I so wanted to just allow it, to just let go
and suddenly I awake
and here I am, dry to the bone
and wondering why, god, why
am I so alone?
I'm still shaking. The one night I go to bed before midnight and I have this **** dream which shakes me to my core. I'm awake now.  :(
I really hate the night sometimes, you know?
Trapped in depths of despair
unable to reach the top where life lives
Sun rise to Sun set over and over
Tears the only outlet of pain
Pain the only outlet of fear
Fear the place of despair
Anguish, sorrow, gloom, desolation and dejection
looks for the days of
care, warmth, compassion, kindness, and affection
waking up with the sunrise again
finding the cage of pain and degradation locked
The key only within
so easy to reach for many
the cage falls deeper into the pits
Everything not as it seems yet perfect in its entrapment
Murkiness all around
Clarity not to be found
Escape is the cry
Begging, pleading an imploring
Finally the cry is silenced
It is finished, over and done with
The sun sets for the last time
As the cage drops into oblivion


Written by: Jennifer Humphrey/Niyahlove all rights reserved
loisa fenichell Jan 2015
who knows how it works?  
the way I end up like my mother
in a dining room at a wooden
table eating for two

2. the way I take baths now
my body wrinkles in the tub
the way hers always did when
I was two years old just learning
how to clench my fists I would
clench them around the wrinkles
of her belly, kiss her temples
all round and sharp like the caps
of beer bottles

3. when I was just two years old
I would drink the leftover bathwater
I still sometimes drink the leftover
bathwater in all of its murkiness I was
drinking her body now I am drinking yours

4. she called our house heaven
if our house was heaven then
heaven is made completely wooden
our front door was heavy and isolated

5..  dirt paths dirt roads matching dry dirt
buried into our matching dry hair
our matching dry mouths our chapped lips

6. with snow pushed to the side of the ground
covering our feet like threadbare blanket
like a lost husband’s lost hands
JHT Jan 2015
Hereabouts was inearthed the grief of an infatuate;
Beneath the moonlight and clinged by deception;
Thou, one and only sol in the murkiness;

Pour spilled, imbrued the prediction away from the windfall;
Thou, who laughed there then shivered forsakenly?
presumed a northwind that never ******* here;

Was life span soundless as the unnaturalness of the ambiguity?
conversed without confab, forsaken the anguish each one raindrops;
Hasten the broken heart in the wake of thee;

When silhouette remains anonymous, hence thou stand synonymous;
thence it's tiring to imitate its fascination;
how afflicts sweet taste of hyperbole from a guileless lip;

Thou laud me, when thou stare me in emptiness;
Thou palter me, when thou don't seek about my beauty;
Thou vanished, when thou don't see amore anymore...

— The End —