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Chirayu Writer Feb 2016
Dear You!...,
                  This Letter Literate you by my world of Writing.!!..
Hello,
       This is me a poetry teller
       Rhyming down the line
       Shimmering light of love
       Pouching out my heart
       in flame of different words..
       Gifting you a secret beauty    
       Falling down on knees
       folding hand behinds
       Rearing one hand by
       Beautiful Rose to say!..
      Will you be my valentine!...
      
     the rays of beauty shines on face
     where hides the blushing rose,
     Pride of fragrant poetry
     Prepared in sane of love;
    Garland meet for beauty's brows,
       Hill and dale adorning?
   Gentle maid the summer's fled
   And the hopeless Rose bright forever!!..
       Till the next Valentine day!!...
                                                       - Chirayu
Valentine's gift by writing poem
R W N-S Feb 2014
Finally, we spoke of the nature of existence
While we lay in bed, sitting up right
I looked at you with the type of reflection
One could but only presumably perceive  
To be
A fun house mirror demeanor;
All distorted with elongated features, we
Are one in the same universal happenings
Tonight

But never the less, the image shining back
Is you

No prejudice has been bestowed on you
I will not assume that your words are meant for conflict
Or that any questions you have - for the sake of argument
Respectfully so, I do not intend to ever judge, or deny
Your emotional or logical self portrayals    


The illusion of separation, the self, this idea of identity
It has rotted open-communication at her core

This round the decision is clear
By riding to the top of the crest
Much of the garbage keeping me afloat has sunk
And now, at this height I have fully,
A three hundred sixty degree view
At the next crest, there, in front of me
There's an interesting new looking pile
Totally enough strength and energy to swim over, too

"We do, we have the same core perceptions at our marrow." I exclaimed, pouching my hands up ahead of my brow line, and then in a circle with my right hand swirling about. " And then, there is all of this. Uncharted territory, at this level. If I am in creation, akin to 'it', then why am I doing this, whats the point?"

I knew how I felt about the subject
But I just needed a witness
She was so close, and I so enveloped in topic
At one point I couldn't tell the difference
Between me, her, or anything in the room

I'll leave it at that...
neth jones Jun 2
greedy to give                                                        
you’­re a cram    born of septic inflammation
                            you fist to govern gods will
gods will gods-will-god-swill-god-swill
gills pouching and punching   a gush of oxygen
and it's give-give-give (beat-beat-beat)
regorging from within
above all ; love
spunking out love-love-love (heat-heat-heat)
and  oh lord of the texture
all the children cupped   under the golden wing
measureless rush   of giving joy
and a returned rush of gratitude                                          
             ­                   and worship will surely be fellow
a flourish of life
lush to follow   the sporing warfares demise
(later  to perform it's own tidal demise)

                 - lapping
Eric Feb 2019
The stars run backwards
I see the  glow in the distance
I feel sick,but I know I ain't gonna die
There is death around and a cold wind cry

This land bears no fruit
We fell out out of grace
Because God has left this ******* place
Static noise and devastation,I can see the ghost of human race

Here is the TV broadcasting death revolution
And the deity pouching from a ***** wall
Horned priest and his children singing all together
To save a little time before the end
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2021
i will attest to this much...
sometimes i sit this canvas and pretend to wonder:
they are not phonetic wars...
we are all somehow literate...
the priesthood relaxed rules for
"dyslexia": we can be noted as having
education in sound encoding...
pretty ******* late if
you ask me...
bad internet connection: primo...
and there i was thinking that
being honest could be equated to water...
how it might flow...
instead... i'm served up with a
crab-bucket of connectivity "issues"...
no... just plain bunny dandy:
you're not up for hopping this day....

i'll have to melt some copper ore
ask two Glaswegians to fight over
a penny to finally invent something
akin to copper wire...
too many interruptions...
it's almost as if all the things
that fly... are supposed to follow Icarus suite...
but no...

a little autobiographical nibble 'ere...
a little over "der"...
i see an apostrophe like i might
pretend to not see a letter
that has to become a surd...
again... i sit before this canvas...
which isn't much of a canvas...

i will take forever to make time
a concise redemption dimension
while attesting to the mere presence
of clouds...
hardly "rolling"...
but clouds are best for:
lest swans and castles...
come the night...
and more... time-keepers of what's
best to engage with THought
without a moral... ought...

all these technicalities...
i need a canvas...
shapes & colours that they ought to be...
instead...
i have these skeletons...
before the altar of God i'm climbing
this impossibility of how words
are wasted...
wasted on: bucra

a litany of best kept: to themselves...
even though i'm willing to contest
that orange, as a colour...
well... it's half as bad given a priori...
organic status...
orange is bad...
           but not when it's an orange... fruit...
or tinsel town or a trek 5 marlin bicycle...
orange is bad when
it's highten-tenet-tightened...
      as a detail... colour is detail:
otherwise to compose shapes...
here i am... bug-frightened hollow in sound...
looking at skeletons...
skeleton lettering... sounds that might
make it into the encycloepedia...
make it into an...

           because that's the correct "spelling"
of the word...
rigid: BULFAR...
    i just invented a word and it's a noun...
noun: posit place, state, origin, temperament,
and time... not a verb...

i write but i want colour...
paradox... i should have been a painter
detailing: not oxymoron,
not philosophy not true or, truant...
excesses in punctuation...
capture sounds... raise them toward
a status of letters...
have to have that
bored-up... pluck-my-eyes out
attitude toward deity...

   but when the sentencing resounds
via: god = word...
i conjure up the exhausting
use of words in all that...
forest that could have remained but
otherwise became...
pile on pile on...
a congested pike of amnesia-work
of... that still elusive spelling of...
fwench... table...
alias... bew-row...

phonetically that's how it looks...
ugly... beau-rho...
bew-row...
      biu-ro-kra-si...

that i write i have to cringe before
god while all other phonetic encodings
are wasted because
there's some dynamic of "authority"
involved because...
a handshake and a word-from-mouth
apiece is not enough to settle score
that i don't need to belittle man
that man belittles himself... galore...
is...

   a revision of punctuation at best...
punctuation being considered an
inter-verbum dynamic and since
in english there's no apparent
inter-verbum dynamic or the use
of diacritical markers...
the whole canvas the point of...
   let's pretend it's almost chess-esque...
this... chicken-scratching
scribblin' ol' me...

encyclopedia... that's apparently correct...
but it's underlined...
so there's a missing Siamese grapheme
waiting to be discovered...
rules... again: rules...
maybe... some greek?

i write China less as caron chasing doubles...
but more like the greek Xa Xa Xa laughter...
which became odd when reading sort of
Spanish of ja-ja-ja-ja...
     bothersome this... H this "e"...
this h... this "M"... **** it the letters
are toying with Copernicus...
no... they're not... but i'm also not equipped
with a compass... either...
who said compas and not compass
who said... the former looks ugly
the latter looks pretty?
and who objected to this language
being so "raw" phonetically?

en-sigh-clo-***-d-ya...
    d-ia...
       jumbling vowels together like it's
a spectacle of a tornado but
there's not ******* wind or
flush in the toilet...
great urn of mammon! speak!
hollow out... let's pretend otherwordly
dictates of supposing agony...

it's not like the english languge could ever
be undermined...
low risk status...
how they speak Fwench
BUT how they rrrrite it... emphasis on a
trill: rather than a Hark... X...
is another boulder of sort, "problem"...

but most certainly this is not painting...
if i were painting i wouldn't be
x-raying... these words these bones...
i'd have fully gravitating forms
and i'd have colours...
i'd be detailing clouds as not
swans or Rembrandt castles
and all "things" psychiatry prone...
i wouldn't be drinking red wine
wanting more: sugar...
more... water!

i relaxed today being inspected
by a female barber...
god... impromptu: i wanted to **** her...
she cut my hair like i might have
had a *******...
bartablondine: blonde moustache...
sodden tricklet...
these details of hair left most exposed...
from ***** to the chin:
yes... the mythological status
of chin and jaw-lineage...
hardly Finnish...

        but the hands on the head
felt most relaxing...
i pretended to doze off...
i only might wished for a whipping
of a non-existent *******
in a furry of pouching... cushion esque
lips...
then again: it might have taken me
a year or so, +, in having finished
reading a Pickwick Papers'... monthly..
entry... which it was...
serial praise...

ava lauren ava lauren....
****-tiptoe a sacred nugget of ****...
less concern in Cyrilic than in
any other... phonetically encoded a...
as in ah-sigh...
variant... denoting more vis-a-vis
aLPHA...
        prime suspect... supposedly...
no...

again.... what alleviates me from
not, to, stressing the sound
encoded in a letter
red is red...
blue isn't exactly black..
BL
BL
                 -ue
                 -ack...

hardly denoting it playing a...
******* fiddle... a violin...
when i am making excuses for a take
on volume while stroking my beard
and not a ferret...
chance me! you catch me a squirrel...
i'll denote you
both Robin and the ******* of Nottingham!

a paradise for opened oysters....
at least... gulped... down...
sobering...
slobbering tow: two...
              i slither i slobber...
this agitating moon...
this agitating closure... sun... exposed...
this, "somehow"...
all EU funding went into
a motto: all autobahns feed the traffic
toward... WARSAW...

but i'm hardly living... that sort of...
a... "sein und zeit"...
i'm not living this variation
of a congested marathon:
i have hours, there's a day...
walking a sum-up 'un of it
is not to my ******' liking...
i'll be adamant when licking
a Romanian **** or a ******* strawberry...
because ****** are ****** last
and **** first...

i miss ******* like i miss:
not being made tough:
experienced in a demand for flimsy filming it...
a mirror is / was an undermining
project... granules...
soothsayers... whip-em-silent...nibbling...

my beard 'airs are not like my
*****...
trim my 'ucking gravity of the brows:
assumed...
before...
left alone... this tired...
this creasing: too much...

  this knee at the altar of a beggar
come: nuance England via
an adhan...
not, e-nuff... / enough...
  call it hue of 'ringe
how can GHETTO:
                 how can... scrap of meats...
     linger like so...

in these letters... borrow some...
like... **** no...
no russian no prussian no austro-hungarian
leaves me gravitating to timid...
bottle of wine, solid...
i'll be leaving having
attained status of a St. Petersburg
grade 0 tourist...

i abhor writing...
each time i excavate this canvas
i'm tying myself to a deity outside of
a polytheism...
how does... multi-purposive...
functioning... plethora...
extension... jargon... loot...

    my cracking of egg shells...
my little Xiny...
chase...
             the plurality word
form for a people...
Xiny - ce-ha-iny...
    like Niem-cy...
             not exactly germs...
more like brick... mortar...
a bottle of wine...

a bottle of bricks...
i expect no wine...
i somehow envision a chance
for a trickle...
i want a teddy... a Theodore...
i want a: HWAM...
what's that?
phonetically it's... Barking &
Dagenham...
colourfully...
fit for a flurry...
it's a... pigeon *******
on a top-hat... *******...
spectacular...me... you are
assigned to heave...
a Forrest Gump from
a Forrest Gate in between
the A406 and... what's that
"blunder" in the middle...
between Ilford and St. Paul's and...
the praising of hybrid... walling...

i heard a piano... crash & fall...
i heard the skimming off details...
i heard the tired affair of circumcision
like i might hear
the grass being mowed
of the hair hair being trimmed...
i heard the donning of the kippah...
i heard so much i hardly forgot
tuning to deaf... dear me...
i heard a piano fall...
i heard a chandelier succumb to...
i was willing to borrow a barrel...
i forgot to can the laughs...
honest to god...
everyone is supposed to forget
to can the laughs...

otherwise we're dealing with androids...
aren't... we?

— The End —