"ornately" poems
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( on a Real Road --- on a Real Day )
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( do you know one ? )
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Beyond the
God & Goddess ... Jive
Beyond the Tarot Card images
Or the poetic vision of an ornately described
Mystic Sky
//
Is a real man
And a lovely girl
Trying to love
And keep the World alive
//
Just a ..... real man
With human sight
)(
The moon is just the moon
( it feels right )
The lake is just the lake
( and thirst quenched is a sacred thing )
ain't no naked myths floating by
//
Just a real man
A real woman
And they're talking about a real child
( A child who needs
A real humanity )
:::
Oh YE poets
Who shame the WORD
who wander in between
Lust and blasphemy
///
Come !
Sing the real song
Calls us to the hills
Where the last of the living
Are gathering
///
( it is the end of the World
It is the end of days )
;:;.
And everyone is waiting
For you to become
"""""
A real man
On a real road
On a real day
;;((
:::
Yes ! Yes !
THIS very one
//
A real man
;;::
( I knew you'd come )
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
Her skin looks pale,
White shedding brown,
like a golden brown velvet
strewn across a skeleton
made from Cleopatra’s frame.
There is nothing to it,
her sway is flawless
in her stilettos,
O’ God those stilettos.
She pave the roads with
blossoms of Primrose
and Calla Lilies, as the tip
of her heels stab the earth.
Her body melts cotton candies
in winter,
her curve bakes pastries
in snowy mountains,
It was an unbelievable sight,
like a sunrise, she climbs the edges
of the highest of peaks,
like the wind, she enters a heart by
the creaks; like a creep.
Perhaps nothing shall stop her,
Her footsteps continue to pierce
the soil, making a sound close to the
cracking of my knuckles.
She made people snivel and weep
when she enters the room
with her slender black dress.
She makes heads turn almost
to their full circle,
it would be death to steal a
peek, or glance, a peep.
She is the sun on earth:
hot and highly radiated
but too tempting to be left alone.
She is like the still waters:
calm, clean and serene
but too quiet to know the depth;
and still willingly jump in.
It is like believing again.
She is like believing again.
She is tiny as is her name,
It shall rhyme as the bell shines,
Her hair, her coiled twisted hair,
is much like herself: curled, twisted
bended.
Yet she is, perhaps, the twist in life,
the curl of wind on her bosoms, or
the bend of spines when eyes turn
to gaze at her splendor.
It is uncertain what she is,
but I know, vaguely.
She, like a Zinnia, shall be the
decoration of this planet.
She shall be, though exaggerated,
the reason for our existence.
She, corrupted and dangerous,
shall reclaim her spot in divinity
and shall forever more be
my source of inspiration.
Like a stream of clear water,
gushing down the torrent
ovately,
ornately,
creatively,
purposefully…
She shall see herself,
breathe herself and know that
only she is the one she could
deliberately fall…
…or fail.
The black sand shall be her dress,
the grey rocks shall be her stilettos,
that clear water be her conscience
as she takes on the world.
With her cursive eye shadows
she will see the funny side of
life; she will see it thoroughly.
She, regardless, will persist
and resist the failure
of herself, with the moist
creek on her seductive lips.
She is seduction.
She is temptation.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
Like lucid dreams entrapped
within a circlet ornately adorned
A sweetest love conceived
but can't be borne
Trailing feathers
billowing light as rain
Starkness in ink
blot reckless in heavy stain
Strings strung taut
attempting to keep all in place
Dream catcher sways
by the window, free and chaste
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 4:56 AM UTC
Someone undeserving of my devotion,
ugly and beautiful,
whispers that scratch up all my dreams,
crazy glue,
a strutting rooster, cocking its vibrant scarlet head back and forth,
a wolf crooning into the night, only to eat me a minute later,
an ornately decorated box, containing a demon of possession,
a precious ******* up vinyl record,
an expensive bugatti that everyone wants but no one can get,
a snake, venomous, but protective of her eggs, really just scared,
a lamppost that's tired of it's job.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 3:22 PM UTC
Obscured by this ornately designed day ****** covering
Is a damaged mind that's still recovering
A broken heart that's still recovering
Love, life, and friendship again
Behind this mask is a dead man that's been resurrected again
He is becoming a new
Without the mask he is no longer blue.
The old world behind him
His new world will find him
Without out this mask his light can shine through.....if you wanted to go that direction of like New life
Behind this mask memories pass straight through it's eyes
When you stare at it slowly your faith dies
The mask was the man's demise The mask is where the darkness will rise
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
"Let's party!"
Gleaming pearls,
Swirling skirts,
Tinkles of laughter
and shouts of joy.
Feet move fast
Words fly freely
Everyone here
is having a good time!
Ornately decorated,
Empty inside.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
I am a flute
ornately carved of rich wood
able to whistle a mighty melody.
My potential to toot
and my complex craftsmanship could
be the reason why I might break easily.
An apathetic Boot
or aging untouched could
be the death of me.
I am hollow inside
but with a gentle touch and a loving kiss
I could sing so sweetly.
May 31, 2011
May 31, 2011 at 2:49 PM UTC
*on the crowded quai of inception
gilded minutes ornately revolve
time is measured in tranches of soul
transporting moments of his essence
never versed in the outside world
an innocent daughter of imagination
boarding a train of transfixed reverie
her departure held fast in sistine release
such a private exhibition on public display
their affection left open to interpretation
a tearfully expressive and inspired farewell
within a shrine devoted to the art of the muse*
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
Tread the bourgeois carpet
of 5000 feet
caked in airmiles
Enter the ornately crafted
nondescript facade
passed the chap in the tall hat
Rank and file -
standard issue pleasantries
Sign the guestbook
of illegible memories
Acclimatise to the room
of temporary devotion
devoid of belonging
or emotion;
the ruthless economics
of designed practicality
The impending ideology:
that what you pay for
you dont get to keep
That nameless hotel
dressed in uniformed vulgarity
is the fourth to be welcomed
as Home this week
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 4:14 AM UTC
the view
stands beneath
the carousel efforts
to blast through
impregnancy aBLOOM!!!!
(w)ith feral legacies
aligned intimately ornately
posthumous adulterer
awakens in need
of
****** corrective agency
towards Fenitbow
and Glightrovee ab-surd as
qua as qua
asqua aqua qua
a^s is trite melody infer[no]
t a x i yellowing each pavement
by truth in yo ' fa ' ' lo ((lo))
i by horns and turns
in plyable waves arrest
what justice juices
freel_y
obligatory
antecedent
quai noyh thlume
ye
HEaVY
Sep 26, 2020
Sep 26, 2020 at 6:17 AM UTC
It's dying you know.
In a scary dark dirge.
It's falling fast.
Was feeling mediocre.
Ages fly past.
From childhood to menopause.
Hell what a blast.
Some kind of supersonic speed.
Looking into the dark world of periods past.
Just took a breath.
Oops there went another.
One second closer.
Patella aches.
Legs are veined.
Decorated ornately.
Threads sewn.
Embroidered, but not by needles.
Hair has gone all funny.
Killed it with my dye.
This hormones it's falling out.
Really don't know why.
Guess I should age naturally.
But I don't know why I should.
(c) Olivia Kent 20/11/2013
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 4:27 PM UTC
You came in black.
Drenched in black,
encompassing the night into your every move.
Sun or moon for each eye,
stars twinkling your feet
so that you can slip quietly in,
black holes removing all evidence of breaking in.
You crept slowly, surely
grabbing everything you found,
every little
secret, scar, soul shine
into that bag you clung to,
clutching it so that it hung from your back.
You passed my fire place.
Empty, with nothing left but coal and dust.
The fire once there?
Now long extinguished.
You shivered,
and continued looking.
You glanced at the kitchen counter.
Strewn across it were spices
and ripped up shreds of pictures
of all those loved.
Mixed into remnants of
entrees, appetizers, desserts,
too good to be true,
gobbled up too fast,
gone.
You shudder,
continue.
Finally, you find what you're looking for.
In the basement, kept in a safe right by where I slept,
you found it.
You reached towards me,
slowly, silkily took the key I had around my neck
as I sighed at your touch and unconsciously let you take it.
You twisted the key,
opened the safe
and grabbed the
ornately scarred,
worn down wooden
box that was held inside.
You opened the box.
Inside lay a red thing.
It resembled a minuscule
mauled, mangled, mutilated
crimson heart.
You sighed with relief and tossed the box and it's hideous contents into the bag.
You grabbed everything else you found and put it inside your bag.
Some were lead heavy, others too light...
Memories kept too long,
some fading,
some still fresh,
others just too strong of a memory.
You crept quietly away,
but not before you heard me whisper your name.
You looked away
like the coward you are
and left the house.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
As like when they were children
now they curtsy at the cross
Then all once they take their seats
and turn their gaze upon
The august priest in silken robes,
ornately trimmed and white
And urging them to prayer between the
readings and the rites
The man of god, his hands aloft
move practiced through the air
His winsome words bring ease upon
the crosses which they bear
His mirthful moans and dulcet tones
resounding through the chamber
By candlelight I then decide
To stay for the remainder
Jan 10, 2022
Jan 10, 2022 at 6:58 AM UTC
Do you know I can see you
tucking your fears
behind your ears
as you watch me watching you?
Do you feel your eyes on you,
when I show you the magic
you've stashed away
in all my corners and edges?
Are you moved
when I watch you move
side to side,
from the shores of one insecurity
to another?
Because I do.
I do,
and I do not think anyone so ornately flawed
must strive so hard
to lock up every shard
of themselves
behind every ray of light
you get from me.
Pick up your falling smile,
because I can see two hands
reach out for the parts of you
that complete you.
I watch two eyes
watching every joy
that etches itself
in your skin.
I can hear you dreaming
of perfection,
without realising that
it lives in you.
And it lives in me.
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 11:55 AM UTC
ever wonder what is going on
behind pretty ornate windows
or not pretty windows
sublime windows
ornately decorated
adorned with ivory lace
revealing perfection
with a keen eye to detail
limpid glass showcasing mistress in her den
sitting fancy in her pink chintz chaise
curled up with a book
her white persian sprawled
about her lap
licking her chops
ordinary windows
peeling blue paint
with smeared glass
lacking class
the home-keepers contending
important matters
bills piling up
whilst disaster pending
sitting in the kitchen contemplating
what ifs what nots and how tos
no matter the difference
windows tell the story
of what is.~~lorilynn
copyright~~*lorilynn 2010
Oct 14, 2010
Oct 14, 2010 at 4:10 PM UTC
Tinkling musical notes pull you closer from across the Fair.
Through mazes of stalls you search The thrilling roller coasters zoom overhead.
Though your eardrums throb with the sound of screams you can still hear the soft tune getting closer.
A beautiful carousel.
Gently bobbing up, down and around in never ending loops.
Ornately painted horses of all hues compete for your choice.
But which one?
The music drops a key, and distorts in the speakers.
Your gut instinctively clenching, as the empty ride spins faster.
The once majestic faces bare grotesque bloodied teeth at you.
Other horses laugh or smile with red eyes that cut to your soul like lasers.
And one horse faces outwards from the rest, staring at you with no face at all.
Your muscles long to move and fists beg to be released.
Your eyes sting, wide open to this horror.
It begins to whir back to it's original speed.
With each turn the horses change back to their positions and resume their delicate poses.
A small man hides in the shadows, operating the ride.
'Which horse do you choose?'
His voice crawls itself under your skin and his sickening laughter spreads it around your body.
Adrenaline hits your veins as you run.
Run from him, the faceless horse.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 11:18 AM UTC
Know me
This I require
With only
Times New Roman
I build a fire
Blowing
Upon the Embers until
Smile
steam and iron
Ink and paper
Music
Silence
To the saloon
To the church
Tying shoes
Speaking words
Bold
Dangerous
Elegant
Graveyard abiding
We laugh
Building to break
To burn
To burn
Speed!
Flame!
In this chaos
Thriving
War Born
Sun burnt
Sons of God or
Devil
Caring not
We tighten the knot
Feral Kings
Upon
Trade winds
Compass spins
Stars inumerable
Compel
Protractor and pistol
Hammer and nail
Gasoline, sail
This blood
This muscle and bone
Violence alone
Prayers of David
Unturned stone
Story tellers
Ornately scarred
Strung for a moment
between two eternities
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 9:20 PM UTC
Out the sleek window
Of the sixth floor again
In Dely Brahim
The scene shifts back;
A long-forgotten actress, I’m placed stage front
A fantastically convoluted Baroque set all around
Vistas broaden behind me, into the distance
So many ornately painted side-wings stepping back
Over-constructed, swelling hills
Teeming with terra-cotta roofed houses; patched,
Faded scrub pasture
Flattened, stylized, staggered against
The distant scrim of a
Daintily picked-out, smokey gun-blue
Mountain range. This
Amazingly contrived
Mediterranean opera-stage set
Encloses me
And I strain to remember
My lines.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 2:16 AM UTC
i've the mien of a human,
alien among his own.
gross animal urges, brackish greengold flits, uncrushable surge; then,
demispoonfuls of Other emerge, light like photons
barely reaching, then lapping,
at my fatigued bare feet, toes curling up
in the sand of someone else's time.
i don't let people in,
because i
myself am
outside of me,
full of blocked ways,
full of rationalizations.
i am all hallways
without any room.
--- it's ******* weird, i know that.
i am not
altogether
normal.
i am out
there, but
still here.
please please, understand
this. it's key.
like, the other day..
while taking out the trash (that i pathologically neglect to do),
as i approached the dumpster,
that old-as-the-hills
tall, ornately carved double door glinted
into my space
- yet again -
out of nowhere;
made of an ancienter wood hailing from
a lost time and a lost space,
whose two adjacent hatch windows were lithely guarded
by some bizarre crisscross adamantine sentient metal -
this precise door, which
i have never been able to open up, let alone fully approach -
laughed and widened its grasp:
and, with a confusing series of heavy deadbolts
receding from its nook with a resonant boom,
the left door,
ajar,
beckoned my
being,
as i
am,
and i crossed its threshold
into a velvety grooved room, remembered again
as a toward flesh warm and sliprune.
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 3:26 PM UTC
Together, we can find
our escape. To discover
ourselves and live out life
in revelry. And use our bodies
as a declaration of our
freedom, ornately decorated
with the stories of our youth.
Far far away from this
flat town that does nothing,
but hold us back.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 12:01 PM UTC
I can't sit anywhere and not drown out the people
But I turn the beats down just enough to judge whether or not they evil
Why does everything I hear in real life
Go inside my ears and get processed as a sound bite?
How can I know I'm wrong, yet I'm still right?
How these people keep befriending me, but when I contemplated IT I was all alone that night.
Why can God be the only one to judge us?
As your role model snorts ******* off a lost girl's *** in the back of his tour bus.
I thought I already lost everything.
So Sam-I-Am, told me again
Not a fan of H.A.M.
Cause he already tried it.
I denied it.
I don't really own anything, cause one day you wake up and everything isn't enough
You need more (do more), wanna buy more stuff
If I believe what I say I really do
How come everytime I go technocamping I feel like my life is just something I move through?
Why does a retweet make me feel important?
Is a Who still a Who if there is no Horton?
Madness, like the only hat I own is the one you left inside my home
Right before you left me forever alone, so not technically a hatter
No patience for useless, polite chatter
Because I think so much **** when it comes out I like it to actually matter
I question myself into oblivion
Jack Harper, I'm the hero though I'm part of a whole destorying the home we're living on.
I know I just need to be hapy.
Telling my thoughts to shut up because the lines read too sappy.
I have never been a romantic out loud,
And the truest part of me failed to bloom when you left the sky with just clouds
You were the sunshine, can you understand now?
Cause I'm cryptic, normally optimistic
Threw my pessimism under ornately beautiful shrouds
You should have loved me when I made it impossible
We'd be together today, I'd be okay
But your happiness not probable
Now this goes back to the first line,
I stopped listening cause I fear what they'll do to me in time.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 2:09 PM UTC
I hope you see
that a scar has been intricately
etched itself
on the dying walls
of my heart
with every pulse
i hope you feel
that the pain
throbs and dampens
the caring soul
that is me
still yearning and hoping
for change that is bleak
i hope you see
that the young man you left
is now alone
and scared
the promises we held
shattered ornately
colored pieces of memories
on the cold summer floor
i hope you see
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
They are like magnets
Two broken butterflies
Trying to fly together
In this horrible weather
Weathering the windy storm
Circling each other
Dearly damaged
And so ornately beautiful
White spots speckle their wings
Small orange Rorschach marks
Paralleled in sweet symmetry
Fairy like wings fluttering
One kiss away from their
Last wonderful day
They settle on the same bent flower
Exhausted they end their
Sad love affair
On petals just as damaged as they are
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 5:26 AM UTC
I've lived my life in stages
Searched the spaces between stars
Ripped out pages that I hated
I haven't gotten very far
But when I feel ages have passed me on
When I lay my head down to cry
I think of how you came to me
Straight down from the sky
This is for you
I stand front and center
Cherish words that you learned
by phrase and by letter
And I promise my baby it all will get better
If we only try
I am only trying to get by
I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do
But just know in the end, I do it for you
You saved me, ornately, a tiny cherub
The weight on your wings I was unaware of
Nov 8, 2019
Nov 8, 2019 at 6:08 PM UTC