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zebra Apr 2017
i always imagine you so very graceful
through the masochists ordeal
a god form of supplication

seeing your face
in love
fascinated by shimmering kisses
that hurt, yet please
wet lips and sharp teeth  
glamors that excite

cold blade licks dragged across
tender bellies
and flexed toes
then radiating outwards

wounds become lilies
mouth *******
tremulous weeping kisses
ecstatic cruelties
blood glitter sacrifice

your supplication
love pangs

i'm shaking apart over you
your countenance
a cascading dream
moved to tears of adoration
your  limitless
like surrenders caress
an infinite communion
with fragile limbs
silky wrapped spools
innerness of desire veiled in a shroud
a faltering star that glistens crimson
nymph of purgation
ash volcanic
cells en-flamed with tongues that bite
subsumed in scented vapors
a confection of **** and ***
waves embrace ineffable shores
passed the discontinuity of life  

I have the most immense feeling of love for you
am i not
the saint death  
quietly following you
through life's labyrinth
waiting humbly in the wings

i am all ache for you
a vice of kisses
a brief encounter
that eats your sight and senses
ushering you to immortal freedom
a swooning garland of fire that enlivens
the body electric
a mist of molecules

your tears intoxicate
i am new life with in you
budding embryo
that consumes its mother for nourishment
and saturates like dew drops  
as it echoes through oblivion
My poems remain explorations of the subconscious ******
If i where a film maker or a novelist  you  would see me telling a story, and yes  i admit to my paraphilias.
These poems  are lunar anamorphic streams of consciousness from the deep chaotic subterranean glitz of transgressive  impulses we all share
Read them if you dare...You might find that part of yourself that you don't want you to know about and then again  you may feel more complete some how if you do....I always loved that dark thing that sleeps with in me
karin naude May 2013
Oblivion is sweat home in moments of pure hell from restless thinking
Excessively worrying about something that might happen and might never realise
I may not even live that far into the future
Continues unanswered questions fill the space in my head
Over filling it to capacity, the cabinet lady quit
This is not the adult life i envisioned long ago for me
How to make sense of disappointment after disappointment
Slinging you to the mat again and again and again
Relentlessly beating you into submission claiming it is good for you
The life drain from your eyes
Without warning the fire for life flares up and scorch all touching it
Just to die down and simmer under ground
The few moments of freedom lived in oblivion is sacred
Reluctant to leave I have little choice
Dragged back to a life I despise at most
Surrounded by empty vessels
Always wanting never able to give
What a horrible existence it must be to be never able to connect with living souls
Being surrounded by walls impossible to be climbed and no bridges build
Oblivion exist with only open space
Space for the mind to run free over, under and among hills
Felicity Smoak Apr 2015
There's something so powerful
about looking up at the night sky
and knowing that all the mistakes you made today and yesterday are gone.

At the end of the day
you are still
a galaxy
a galaxy.

You think your mistakes are big, but they are so so small.
ELK Jan 1
Drowning in waters of storm
I flail desperately to keep my head
above the glimmering
Invisible to the ones I need the most
my plea for help leaves my lips unheard
And so I drown with no company save my
I want to get drunk on the stars
to have their luminescent light fill my being
and fill in the cracks left by my
So I swallow shards of glass
in a futile attempt to end the pain
I close my eyes and let them shred who  I am
who I used to be.
But when the stained slivers fill my gut
all I feel is cold numbness
All I hear are their words so carefully cruel
slashing into me like
So I curl up in a ball on the bottom of the lake
and let myself drown
Into darkness
Into oblivion.
-Esther L. Krenzin-
Sometimes what we think might save us from ourselves, only harms us further.
Amarys Dejai Jul 2018
I often wish that I was still a child.
So many things change when we grow up.
Innocence becomes lost,
days become shorter,
the nighttime still scares me,
playing house becomes a game of survival,
boys become men, men become frightening,
I become sad, worried, anxious, and self-aware,
friends will lose their half of the necklace or their friendship ring,
being loved by someone will determine my worth,
I no longer feel small next to the kitchen counter,
but in the presence of everyone around me,
“Forever” loses its meaning,
everyone will eventually leave,
death is no longer a myth,
I will not smile as often as I did,
I will not cry as little as I did,
I will not feel safe in school anymore,
I will not go outside and play anymore,
I will try and pick the imperfections off of
my skin until it is red and bleeding,
**** in my stomach whenever I walk,
work myself into exhaustion,
feel overwhelmed by every task,
have anxiety attacks in public places,
and wish that I was a child again.
What is meant for me?
I'm constantly walking through doorways, that have me slowly Falling out of the sky,
Into a hopeless pit of UN-Returned love.
Watching the sky fall away from my grasp,
as the ***** hands of time yank me further down.
how much longer until I have nothing left?
how far away is the ground?
I see faces of beautiful people,
but as I reach out I see,
the ugly heart within.
I look,
through the hands of time,
that yank me further down,
to find the one,
destined for me.
Äŧül Dec 2018
Back at a time
I met with a serious accident
No major bones fractured
Just intracranial injuries
The impact
Continues even now

Now in my PhD
I read a lot of scientific stuff
Memorize little
Reproduce lesser
Get myself
Even lesser marks

7th of May in 2010
Was the date unfortunate
On which I met
With the accident
Rode myself
Into The Oblivion
My HP Poem #1726
©Atul Kaushal
MeanAileen Mar 2017
It's my best friend,
and my nightmere-
it's all that I love
and everything I fear.
It's my fulfillment,
my bottomless sorrow-
bringing dark thoughts
of no tomorrow.
It's my strength,
my greatest plight-
this evil addiction
I try to fight.
It's my oblivion,
my heartbreaking pain-
a toxic cloud
that's killing my brain.
It's my protection,
my paranoid lies-
the Devil himself
in crystal disguise.
It's my sanity,
my endless strife-
this methamphetamine
destroying my life.
It's my reality,
my make-believe bliss-
I just never imagined
I would end up like this....
Truth be told....
Joel Mathew Jul 2018
Asks one blind man to another
“How did you lose your eyes?”
Replies the other

“I was born into a world of darkness.
Nothing to see, but the abyss ahead.
Staring into its depth, as it stared back.”

Asks one blind man to another
“How did you lose your eyes?”
Replies the other

“I was born into a world of light.
As a child whose eyes sparked curiosity,
I searched, taking in everything I found.”

“The azure summer sky on the tranquil blue ocean.
The trees dancing in the first monsoon shower.
The amber foliage on a sepia autumn sky.”

Replies the man born blind “I wonder what’s worse.
Experiencing sight and having it taken away,
Or not experiencing it at all.”

The other smiled a smile so happy yet so sad
“The sights of light are still vivid in this abyss.
Light so bright, light so dark...”

“My loss is both a blessing and a curse.
I’ll never see those sights again
I’ll never forget those sights either.”

Asked the man born blind,
“Is mine a blessing or a curse?”
The other cried, tears flowing from a void.

“Cling on to her hand and don’t ever let go,
Asleep in her warm caress, don’t ever wake up
She’s both your blessing and curse.

She is oblivion.
If you had the choice, would you want to be born blind, or born with sight? Would you want to see the world for what it is, or would you want to be lost in oblivion?
Here the weary rest upon the shore to
admire this mountain lake, a mirror struck
by dusk. Now watch how water turns from friend

to foe, at night it mimics chasms deep
and wide in absence of the heavens’ light.
Shadows come to haunt the mind and wake the million

voices buried far beneath our consciousness.
You stray from dreams to lie awake and wait
for the patient plea; the void is calling

you home. I know I cannot keep you
from heeding the insistent pull, my friend,
so powerful the draw of Death’s own flute.

Take solace in the knowledge that, I hear it too.
Daphne Ryan Jun 24
A master of this mad world,
For the flower bloomed on the saddest day,
To offer,
An ounce of desire,
For a happier and more content way,
Of living,
Without a burning fire of hate.
jonni inferno Feb 2018
sailing down
a sunless sea
downward to
no stars above
to give me hope
or guide me to
an island shore
with every change of course i make
my destin--y
remai-ns unchang---ed

no escape
from this wilderness
no running from this

duh da-da da da dahhh

my ha-nd
and come
and come with me
so far be-yond
this storm
this stormy sea
rest your weary heart within
leave the wor-ld
behind my friend
you've heard me calling
for a long long time
just take my hand
and you will find...

duh da-da da da dahhh

so i turn my ship
into the wind
and fa-ce the tru-th
that i have seen
softly singing
she calls my name
with open arms
i release my pain
and as the sea closes over me
my hea-rt at last finds

... oblivio--n
a broken heart's best frie-nd

my ha-nd
and come
and come with me
so far be-yond
this storm
this stormy sea
rest your weary heart within
leave the wor-ld
behind my friend
you've heard me calling
for a long long ti-me
just take my hand
and you will find...

... oblivio--n
a broken heart's best fri-end

so i turn my ship
into the wind
embrace the heart of

"hello friend"
she welcomes me within...

so ta-ke
my ha-nd
and come
and come with me
so far bey-ond
this storm
this stormy sea
rest your weary heart within
leave the wor-ld
behind my friend
you've heard me calling
for a long long time
just take my hand
and you will find...


" i'll be your bro-ken hea-rt's
be-st frien--d... "

Pic Poem
no matter what the song says
- oblivion -
is not your friend...

added link to the pic/poem
Äŧül Dec 2018
Things are hard in this fazy
Coz this fantasy is hazy
The love I express is crazy
More because I didn't get any of it razy
And now I get pulled being so lazy
The whole world seems so glazy
Oh, I'm trapped here - this place is mazy!

But I shall now be pacjent
Coz this love is so true
The way she's here, she'll stay
More because she loves me realnie
And now I hope that it blooms
My world and her world too
Oh, I want her here - her love is my Zahir!

My lover is very plochy
Coz she's very simple
The ideal match I've wanted
More because she's so wozniacki
And now I know what love is
My Pooja loves me too
Oh, I have her now - I want her forever!
Polski language words:
fazy: phase
razy: number of times
pacjent: patient
realnie: really, indeed
plochy: shy
wozniacki: intellectual

My HP Poem #1727
©Atul Kaushal
s y k Mar 2014
You left me stranded
in bleak oblivion,
Despite all the love
I planted in your core,
In faith for daffodils to bloom through your barren soul.

Your wielded words had crippled me time and time again
Paralysing my senses,
Until my sanity began to decay.

But now I've bled you out of my veins
And unto my paper for the last era,
Inking your name away
Untangling myself out of these chains.

The moment has come for me to let you go
After fifteen months, you’d think I already did so.
I'm finally letting you go after fifteen months of agony. I won't be writing about you any more.
Lesley Jun 2018
I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling wishing it wasn't there,
I hear the thick, heavy rain hammering on the roof,
It drowns the silence,
I hear nothing but the cold drops free falling from the sky,
I like the rain, I like to stand and let it wash over me,
Cleansing me, waking me up from my haze of darkness,
I like to feel cold bite my skin,
I feel awake, alive something that I haven’t felt in a while,
Something so cold shouldn't feel so gentle,
But it does,
It trickles through my hair onto my face, blending with tears as it goes.
It does not go deeper than the surface, it does not rid me of my inner self,
It does not wash away my inner demons that taunt me with dark thoughts,
Whispering at the back of my mind,
I’m held together with stitches that barely close the cuts,
Old and new blur into one, the rain does not heal them,
But burns them making them bleed,
Only I can see these cuts and deep they run,
No one notices I’m falling apart,
No one cares, I’m invisible no one knows who I am,
I hide in the dark that I’ve been banished to,
It seems comforting now,
I spent so long fighting it not wanting it to win,
But I’m tired and weak, I cannot fight anymore,
I beg for oblivion, for complete nothingness,
To feel no pain to be numb,
I give in, it caresses me ridding me of my fears and anguish,
I float away.
S I N Nov 30
Shall I from battered path of life derailed
Into the vast mysterious unknown,
Where every firmament is thin and frailed
And everything to you does seem forlorn?
Where dwells no light, nor dark, nor pungent fire
What either burns or purges stranded souls,
Or where reside the creatures vile and dire
Collecting for the passage golden tolls;
Or shall Through this abyss I ever wander
Along the flowing River of the dead,
Or with my head precociously to plunger,
Myself to the sleek tenants of there fed.
But this is all just aimless reveries
Of one who is bereaved of heaven bliss
K Balachandran Nov 2018
Past coral garden,
Dive to the depth of blue night;
Blissful oblivion!
Onoma Feb 24
the colossi of oblivion

roam interplanetary barrens--

wearing ashen garlands

that drip flame.

watching the flames float away, eaten by

the concept less crush of what ceases no end.

hopelessly lost to the relative,

their consciousness continually meditative blasts.

(shedding cherry blossoms, & babbling brooks)

Arthurian swords pulled out of

the stones of more advanced minds--

blindfolded initiations that wield

event horizons.
Ameed 5d
winds blowing
through your hair

age meddling with
your mellow skin

slithers of gray with
wrinkles of strifes

you dissolve into life

you're absorbed by the soil
and as simple as that you are

what was yesterday turmoil
is dead and cold and possibly
Atlas Jul 4
You grabbed ahold of my hand.
Fingers clasping around mine.
Pointing towards the unwavering sunset.
And ****** me off my feet.
Breath hitching
As you swung me.
Off the cliff.
In one fluid motion.


It was a long way down.
I guess I could've done something.
Something to live.
Anything really.
But what really.
Was there to live for.
When the one I love.
Wished for me to die?
What purpose was I left.
To cast upon this barren world.
Than to do what she wished?
I let the raging waters engulf me.
It was almost comforting, really.
And as soon as my skin.
Hit the icy liquid.
The life left from me.

L B Sep 2016
Route 84 would not lend me
the light of a star last night
Radio blazing at 75 mph
nonsense noise to chew gum by
Crackling political commentary
Static of distance and thick clouds
Invisible mountains blocking
Memories seeping through the cracks
coating the music in a film
I rub my eyes
watch myself punch alert buttons
But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight

Roll down the window
Watch the heat escape

Summer again

I am building a castle of ancient stones
pulverized by relentless tides
Dragged across maps by mastodons
and mammoth glaciers
The scouring hiss
the ocean sighs
Time has lulled these smoothly
rolling them in the softest hands of sand
and gels of life’s comings and goings
tenderly tumbling
in the millionth moonrise—
Time deposits them here
wet and glistening

For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather
Shoulders sun-burnt barely say
one week only,
one week of the fifty two
“It’s the time of the season…”
and daddies on the beach are watching….

She has chosen yet another stone
And the castle continues—
in oblivion to all but her legend…

     The queen will be safe here
     from the rabble
     The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her
     Among these lofty cliffs
     Between the raging circuit of the tide
     Here winds forbid the vengeful mob
     Here lovers learn
     the debt of love’s bad timing
     “Drink ye all of it!”
     --the potion that assigns our sorrow….
     She will not sleep—
     while I chew this gum--  GUM?

Roll down the window!

Angels escape with the heat
Waking me with the brush of their wings

As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank
And leans on the horn
Lights flashing
Rude rumbling under right tires
Tantrum of snow
In the draft of mass and velocity

…and the angels?
They’ve chosen another good one!
They must’ve liked the 80’s
Their wings slapping the windshield madly  
Their hands steady the wheel
As a fourteen-year old, I picked up a book to read at the beach about the legend of the lovers, Tristan and Iseult.  I was so captivated by their story that it ruled my imagination that summer.  

Anyway, I still think of it when I think of the ocean-- as I did on this cold dark occasion when I should have pulled off somewhere for a coffee, but I was trying to beat the snow storm home.
Route 84, also known as Dead Bambi Highway, has a desolate, treacherous section going over the mountains between NY and Pennsylvania.  Didn't have much option for music at the time, so I leaned heavily on the radio pushing the search button to find anything bearable-- not too much static.
Song reference in this: "Time of the Season" by the Zombies-- all time favorite beach song that happened to be on the radio that night.
K Balachandran Dec 2018
A lakeside egret,
Curiously watches a peerie fish;
Forgets killer instinct.
Wayne Wysocki Sep 2018
by Wayne Wysocki

I live in a place called Oblivion,
Its location matters not;
You'll not recall or think at all
Of this forgotten spot.

But this is where you left me
When you and I were done,
And here I dwell, an empty shell,
While are you having fun.

I know your frequent fancies
Should have clued me from the start
How easily your love for me
Would vanish from your heart.
Copyright © 2018 Wayne Wysocki
Do I have a tongue,
Can I speak too?
In this strange world,
Am I a human too?

Do I have a heart,
Can I live too?
In this strange land,
Am I alive too?

In the midst of Oblivion,
I search my visions,
I once used to dream,
As a young teenager,
In Sea of Paro s
I try to remember,
The faces of people
I had once lived with
Father, mother, brother
Of all those people
I had once called family.

I came here as girl,
I am shared in the family,
I born plenty children,
I am sold and re-sold
In and around
To any men who
Can afford to buy,
I am kept but
Seldom married,
Each street have
it's own paro,
They all have
But the same story.

After some years
I cease to exist,
For the people
Who bought me
I am an old cattle
Who no longer
give them pleasure,
I am now a burden
A liability soon
To be shedded..

They don't throw
me though,
They leave me alone
In a small room,
I have become a mother
Of a girl or two
I have new family
But no identity
fits me ever,
When I come here
I became a Paro,
When my times up
I die a Paro!!

Paro is short for
Pardesi, a foreigner,
I am the girl
Bought for men
From another land
Into there land,
To born son's
For there motherland.

This is ordeal of
A soul that once lived,
Now it's just a body
With no role,
No fiction this
It's a real story
A reality of some
Distant land !!

That land for you
Is so very strange
Where eight young man
**** a pregnant goat!
And the strangest
thing is they
go away and
Roam scot free..!!

Soon the elders in the village
Will have a big meet,
They will give compensation
To the owner of the goat,
And free from the sin
There precious young boys
The martyred goat
Will also have new name,
And so it will soon
Be christened to
A new species of
a first of it's kind
A Welcome from
an animal world!!

And so I ask again
Do I really exist?
What form of life
Do I have here?
In this strange land
Are they human too??
Does even a little atleast
A thing called
Humanity exist???

Sparkle in Wisdom.

Wrote this poem after reading this article.
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