"nascence" poems
it’s a kiss of
blowsy fate:
the yellow leaves
float and
hold the
moment of
brown-blue
crunch
under new
tennies—
cool
and the kiss
of an old
mattress flipped,
a pumpkin vine
twisted,
a musty basement
coated in
lavender mist—
the breadth
of nascence in
my mouth:
Ginger
I think was
her name
and the ash
of my cigarette
smokes
the blown
sidewalk.
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 12:52 PM UTC
My Teacher is silent and strict.
My Teacher feeds me in upbringings.
My Teacher caresses like wind,
My Teacher is full of his Feelings.
My Teacher's a nascence, an end.
My doubt is My Teacher and sure.
My Teacher is art to refrain,
My Teacher is art to be pure.
The Doctrine is simple and hard,
The Doctrine is stable and driven.
The Doctrine that evil allowed
To make all my blessings be given.
-----------------
Учитель мой и строг и молчалив,
Учитель мой взращает и питает,
Учитель мой ласкает как прилив,
Как ветер нежно обнимает,
Учитель мой- рождение и смерть,
Учитель мой-сомнение и ласка,
Учитель мой- умение терпеть,
Учитель мой-безумие и сказка.
Учение и сложно и легко,
Учение и твёрдо и безбрежно,
Учение-дозволенное Зло,
Учение- что Благо неизбежно.
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC
how long must I walk in the ashes of my yesterday?
charred carbon butterflies dancing past my tired eyes
floating on what could be the last breaths of this tired world
nothing but a fleeting sigh, nothing but a fading whisper.
Ashes.
the endless long lost steps
the creaking weary bones
one foot in front of the other
I walk in Ashes.
I look to the jagged teeth where earth meets the sky
gnashing, grinding, grinning
a sickly cheshire smile far and wide
a newness, a nascence felt inside
the illusion is slowly fading
but yet I still walk in Ashes.
like sepulchral confetti
the blackened ash quietly collects
whispering and licking at my ears
a tragic choir in unison they sing
'one and one have become zero'
in silence I grieve beneath a jet black sky
on my broken knees
never ending Ashes.
will this ever end?
rust covered, abandoned
thoughts like swinging hammers
comforted only by Ashes
that sing me into nightmares
of dying stars and black suns
and nights that have killed the only Dawn I've ever known
will the Ashes ever end?
in all the desolation, in all the dereliction
there is calm, a soothing shudder scrapes my skin
a rising urgency deeply rooted beneath the I
sweetly swaddled
gently graced
blanketed by Ashes.
the roof of the world
sunken, failing - utter frailty
I am no telamon, I have no strength
unable to bear the weight
the weight of all the Ashes.
in this comforting collapse
at the bottom of my oubliette
wings of splintered light emerge
they glow like the light of dying cinders
they glow like your iridescent halo
they glow like the last light I will ever see.
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 2:14 PM UTC
Allowing the dust to settle
And the hovering mist to part
You can't live inside of my mind,
There's more space for you in my heart
I keep myself busy to stay aflame
While the world slowly turns
I'm sprinting through days that blur
And suffering through the burns
Toggling between elation and insecurity
Emotions aren't permanent, only temporary
Experience has taught me everyone goes eventually
Resilient to adversity shrouding me
In its tethering web of prickly hairs
Mourning the nascence of elation
And all of the splendor it bewares
A cocktail of hormones straight to the dome
Nostalgia hitting in waves
Dragging me back in time to those hopeless romantic days
Jun 24, 2023
Jun 24, 2023 at 6:39 PM UTC
I emerge at the calm before the storm
where they can't reach me by the quake
anymore.
Before the plunge I am unwithered and unworn
calling Mother at the folds where it was torn.
Cast as foetus and bag of stone
I am pulled down into a blend of effulgence
and the lungs linger in my mouth
before settling for breath between the bones;
marked by nascence and polished.
Held in an agitation of hands I am lifted
onto the summit of all things,
and she cries at the final separation
of our veins,
of our beings.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
sky, a sea;
the sun is a ship sinking
slowly
into slumber
& i’m a seed
sleeping
on soiled sheets,
sproutless, seeking the solace
of silence,
the nascence
of night—
the delight
in drawing dreams from dust
to dusk into day
into divinity;
in withdrawing
to the wild and wondrous
womb of waking.
Oct 31, 2020
Oct 31, 2020 at 1:45 PM UTC
.
Bright summer coastlines
Young women giddy with life
The sea wafting in
.
Aug 10, 2021
Aug 10, 2021 at 7:33 PM UTC
Ceremonial bell tolls reverberate in suspense
While a flock of ravens sweep the murky skies
The mental state of the land is glaringly tense
As the caws of the crows create eerie lullabies
Unearthly howls reverberate through the Earth
Ceaselessly piercing the ears of all those living
This dark eve will cast forth a very sadistic birth
Of the creatures that run all of Hell unforgiving
Zombies will seize the bodies of the deceased
Ghouls will torment all lost souls as examples
Werewolves will help more souls be released
As Vampires do nosh each being as sampled
A New Dark Era on Earth is now soon to begin
With the Creatures of Darkness harvesting Sin
Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 11:13 AM UTC
Pressed into the issue is my neck into the block
They said "you'd lose your head if you 'unhinged' it" so they'd mock
I'm set to wreck defenses of the bets deception in the case of my detected
degradation in the path of my elation
waiting for annihilation is my sense of violation
I define the vices as a time to track, stack, and counteract my existential missile crisis
Dress this deflected duress invented by these compressions
and pulsing bloodlines distressed, with toxic vision's direction
Repeating the motions but coming short with the payoff
I'm stacking foundations, but the proof seems a way off
I've said to myself I've ordered glory by priority
If it's lost in the mail, good ******* luck with conformity
Candle ends burning and hold my crest til it's fallen
Burn the witch at the stake, cut my head at the block
I'm holding out for the truth, and keeping this as my rock
Your pilgrimage building, and running off with complacence
I'll make a Mission of me, my temple and my new nascence.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 11:57 PM UTC
We met at friends house . . .
That night was first love making,
. . . The moon dance of eyes.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 9:36 PM UTC
There; in the horizon of the furthest state,
Speaks the death of the Holy Gate;
No roads lead to the desert of wonder,
Except for the mirage just yonder,
In the eyes of this humble crystal tear -
So these misfortunes may lowly appear -
To march the band out of it’s bay,
For a sound was not made - on the dying day.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 1:56 PM UTC
The world worships nascence; only the young are seen as truly alive. The old become transparent and obsolete as ghosts. It is not the event of death we fear so much as the slow fading away that proceeds it. To be old in a world where the young no longer see you: that is one definition of loneliness.
~ mce
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
M-en discarding ego
O-n the one path towards
N-oticing & Nascence,
K-nown for mastery of Sacred Secrets
S-elf of sentient light's
(Double--Happiness).
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 9:56 AM UTC
He was seething,
but I was finally breathing.
I stood in his shadow for far too long,
mesmerized by his siren song.
I apologized for my words and held my sharp tongue,
while he never did so—I remained overstrung.
I resent myself for having endured so much,
but that's okay, as those were the years of my nascence.
Now, I stand tall in the shadow of my own dignity,
away from the wretched hands of his vanity.
He decays now, murderously slow,
while I relish my freedom forevermore.
He is seething,
I am breathing.
Mar 14, 2025
Mar 14, 2025 at 1:39 PM UTC
Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens!
A demeanour equable to viridity,
The nascence of a lamb.
The supposed handsel from the welkin!
Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens!
A swaying of a quixotic mind,
The dance from the societal crwth;
The derogation of the lamb via gibes.
Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens!
A continual lampoon –
The spawn of a chapfallen eagle.
The brainchild of a timorous creature.
Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens!
A diagnosis of a bird in incommunicado with flight;
A late palpation, albeit.
The societal routine…
Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 1:39 PM UTC
The nascence of your happinesses
Essence in your tone ..
Is a pinch of euphoria.
lits up me like a drug...
Possess in an obscure ambiance..
Real reel in a memory flim..
Dose of drug to doze off ....
Sep 21, 2020
Sep 21, 2020 at 11:01 AM UTC
Water birthing dreams.
Asleep in subconscious deeps,
Lucid with nascence.
Oct 29, 2019
Oct 29, 2019 at 12:49 AM UTC