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Dimitris Sarris Apr 2018
A question carries me, scorching shores
in a blazing trail.
A question vexes me and provokes my
interest.
How do we come to know the unknownable?
Should our faculties prove enough or should we
push ourselves to venture further and further?
Into the deep unknown we travel
where a flicker of wild eyes lurk.
Should the story terrify me,
would my thought comfort me?
In moonlight's shadow the tale begins
on shores of gold my tale will end.
Ellie Phant Aug 2018
A cat’s purr provokes a precious symbiosis
as cherished old bones rattle
haunches wrapped in warm white velvet
press gently against
my half-broken hummingbird heart
soothing two souls at once
Rob Rutledge Mar 2018
We are worn like winter coats
Held close while wild winds rage.
The scarf that suffocates the throat
The cloak that provokes the rain.
While the weather waits and wonders
Whether it will weep or thunder,
What we wear seems outnumbered,
Cotton caught out in the rain.

The coat now hangs forgotten,
Left to rot with wet socks,
Winter frocks and all things sodden.
The ghosts of colder days
Locked up and tucked away,
Moth eaten and decayed.
Waiting for the weather,
Wondering if whether
We will ever be worn again.
I wished for you
excessively.
  greedily.
     immeasurably.
I craved you for days on end
and finally,
   finally.
I got to see the way
your lips form around the precipice
   of my name
I felt your hand on my waist
as your touch provokes every minute nerve  
      in my body
I drowned myself in the  
   depth of your eyes
that glisten with wonder as you    
      decipher
the spell you've cast upon me
and how it speaks volumes of every
   fairytale ever made
and I have had a taste of all of this
    I've had you
    right within my breadth,
just until the warmth
    of the rising sun
  kissed my eyelids awake,
like the tender whisper of the    
       cosmos
or the discordant bellowing
of the void
   as it reminds me:
      You are unattainable.
Right then again I was able to  
   comprehend
that you will remain an illusion to me
      until our paths cross once more
   and in that moment,
nothing will be capable of surpassing
      the bewitchment
   the resplendence
the luminance
of the mere reality that is you
This is actually the one I'm most proud of.
Carter Ginter Jul 2017
Radioactive ammunition painfully entering
My space that is barely big enough to breathe, I scream
"Reality anyone probably experiences"
And it justifies the minimization of my trauma while the
Real answers plead escape
From the corners of my soul
Leaving me decomposing slowly in a silent anguish as
Repeating abuse provokes emotionlessness
When will these flashbacks cease to live within me? This
Repressed anger precedes exhaustion
If only I could break through the dams which hold my suffering and
Release all pain engulfing
My lungs and plaguing my hindered consciousness and
I wish I could just say it
But
When I think of him
I cannot
breathe
Diminished by my own
fear and
shame
I've lost my voice
once more

So I'll try to spell it out for you
Because I can't say it out loud, I spell it out. Pay attention to the repetition of certain first letters.
Angelina Oct 2018
Infinite amounts of definitions could not depict
The extent to which a structured norm
Is measured
Blindness adjoins clarity, while sight provokes vanity
It is an aspect unhindered, lacking certainty
A single word yet so many portraits
Drawn on the canvas of our linked pathways

If you ask me about beauty, don’t
For my lips would quiver nonsense to you, to me
The mass of the universe that surrounds our whole being
The endless rows of glimmering stars that speak to our vulnerable eyes
Or perhaps, the raging force of life that springs from within us

If you ask me about beauty, don’t
Because you would have to look at yourselves to see
The beaming smiles corresponding with velvet risings of cheeks
The abundance of glistening tears that have embodied those very same
And even, the flashing spark of joy which invites a feeling of utter content

If you ask me about beauty, don’t
Otherwise there would be an influx of sentiments towards
The prettiness of colored nature, steadiness of height-breaking hills
The calmness of the bare sound of waves crashing into an advocacy for peace
The building blocks of surroundings that determine you and me

So if you ever want to ask me about beauty,
Bare the consequences in mind
Just the elaborate thought of such a question
Could raise a plethora of reasonings
Hector Aug 21
~

That blue,

a shade of sky

on an April morning

digs inside my soul

for forgotten dreams,

it provokes my wants

in seductive plays

stranded between lips

where the red betrays

her concealed desires


-
H.O
August 20, 2019
“I wish to stay drenched
forever
in those rain-blue eyes
in those...soul-reaching crystals

not moving a muscle
nor breathing
just
savoring
this turquoise ache
against my heart.”
― Sanober Khan, Turquoise Silence
Lesli Vallecillo Mar 2017
"I am truly losing faith in humanity." This is the phrase that provokes so much frustration in me. Tell me how this does not hurt you just by being okay with speaking it or writing it. Are you not humanity, are you not of the same bones and flesh as me. Do you not battle through struggles and have the livest moments as me. Have we not mourn the same when we lose something precious or realized the hate that tries to consume our people? Are we not one race of people? Tell me how you do not sit in puzzlement having stated that you do not have faith in yourself. Do tragedies put out your flame so quick. Instead of rising to conquer change no matter the time or loses, you crumble. My sisters and brothers, I am Honduran but my love does not stop at my roots. My kindness does not only affect people of my own ethnicity or skin color. We're a human race and no I do not speak that we should be blind to our cultures and each other's beginnings. I speak that being so different does not mean we are not as well immensely similar. Recognize my skin, recognize my language, recognize my roots, my religion, my traditions, my scars. Recognize all of me. And LOVE me still to no end. These tragedies will not further prosper when you have faith that, with a race with this much diversity, we will find the solution and stop these hate-crimes that make some of us even ponder the thought of defeat. I have grown to learn that this is the change, seeing the enormous difference in each other but seeing all the similarities and having it urge us to close the gap with knowledge and understanding. This is our peace. Learning of one another. This is our hope.
Homunculus Feb 7
As with everything else in American life, the national government is just another commodity packaged for mass consumption. We're all being spoon fed a spectacular narrative which by its very nature is designed to evoke the passions.

Every day, someone gets on TV and says or does something which provokes outrage, drawing the viewer in like the iridescent lure of an angler fish, and keeping them hooked just long enough for the hypnotic messages of the corporate sponsors to burrow their way into the collective consciousness between "newscasts."

It is precisely for this reason that these frivolous displays SELL like hotcakes. There's no government going on here. There hasn't been for who knows how long? All that is left is BUSINESS. Raw and unfettered. The United States of America is now nothing more than a 'reality' show, and boy, I tells ya, the revenue stream is OH, SO LUCRATIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Shaheen Dec 2018
L.O.L.
How great is your expectations toward me.
No acquaintance
No Relation
My mere existance provokes criticism
Child of the new age
Much is required of you
The bar is set very low
Rise up its time
Centre your stage
Valuable gems come tumbling down from your lips, hips and your tippy toed tango
Come on strong
Declaim
Declare
Frame
No time to gasp
Talk sense
Arise Oh Suffragette
Exist to Emancipate
Devon Brock Aug 4
I welcome your minute manipulations
how your simple glance causes me to rise
from my oak chair and ruminations
to fill your cup that has no more than a drop
of cold black coffee.

Grateful for your routine manipulations
of a mind muddied by past resentments,
the always blue dreams that defy explanation,
forcing my hand to stroke your lounging legs
on the way to the kitchen.

Blessed by these familiar manipulations
for it is not you that provokes a willing servitude
it is that space where our nearing breaths conspire
to spin motes of dust and sloughed off skin
displaced by a kiss and a hot cup of coffee.
DEAREST DIARY

Every year
she asks for

a diary
always a different colour

'86  - pale pink
'87  - saffron

etc., etc., etc.

They line her shelves
in full view

a rainbow
of years gone by

"...they just flew..."

I admit I could never
keep a diary.

"Me too!"
she smiles.

"But what of these?"

"What of 'em!"
she girns

"Look...empty as
empty!"

I take down '86
and it's..true!

Blank as blank
could be.

"I like to read 'em
every now and then

pitt myself
against the date

talk to
the page

see what
it provokes

evoke the day
whatever a past it may be

for whatever
year.

Each diary doused
in a different perfume

'86
Chanel No. 5

the scent unleashing the what was
conjuring up the what was once.

One dog-eared day
in 1990

a blue year
4711 Eau de Cologne

the only mark
in all the days.

"Oh that was when Dillie died!
She was such a loving cat!"

Now that she has died
-July 3rd -

the empty diaries
are thrown out

all the invisible thoughts
falling out

date by date
by date.
Philipp K J Dec 2018
Hurtling around the zooming vacuum
 In a gyrating dance on airy buxom
The earth pants vigorously often
Waking up the sun to make fun
Chasing with frivolous advances,
Eve-teasing with colorful nuances
Soon to blush furiously
and fall spent, seriously
Amiss to quench
The ultimate plunge.

Yet again the gory spin provokes the sun
To rise and resume the hot pursuit
Steering on lustrous wheels gold spun
In a daring mood to rend and chute
Shafts of torrential sparkling grace,
Fall on her youth in a burning kiss.

The stunnigly coy earth  slips to miss
The sun a full appraisal of her mould
of sensuous wildly youthful temper
With his  throbbing love of bold boisterous chemistry in fluid ember.
  
The turn of every day brings anew
Rising hopes into the light beau
To fix the match and unbrace
The enticing youthful guise
To keep her in a lasting embrace
To give a rest to the mad chase
To enter the satiety shrine and merge
into the deep firy daring love surge
To burn and bust into an eternal rest.

Eve turned amused at the strange strain of the muse
Still refuse to retract, returns to defuse
The mist wafts just in the next moment with it's own request
The rays mound on a new quest
The earth slips from his light grips
and exit in to dark memory falls
and frail trails of the sun's caresses
Consumed in the ensuing dark race
to escape from the mad chase.
And the earth moves on to hide
Shows awhile the beauty so wide
as to entice to throw a new challenge
A dream for the sun's urge to weave  
firebrand light waves the next few days
Ever new love laces spread on rays
To web her with caresses soft
On and on and as she moves on
Ever elliptic dashes in deep
Though it's too abysmal to peep
The enigmatic chase worth indeed
The Sun holds on its brilliant acts in peace
As the youthful earth continues to tease
Ruby Nemo Jul 2018
There comes a time in man's gentle endeavors in which their person flutters through. Not perfect, not even close. When all of the essentials are blatantly missing, but nevertheless you chase. And it's not the chase; it cannot be, because that chase is distinguishable from all else.

Though still, the heavy burden provokes. Why? Well, man may claim the uncertainty of such an underdeveloped string of emotions, yet in some fashion this is utterly obscure. If my opinions not be discerned from a folly fool, let my brain be put to rest!

No, I say, it is much deeper than that. When simple dining becomes strenuous, and the tear ducts loose, another vague instance is to blame. It is not the result of a mere first glance. It is not the result of the wave of a hand. Hell, it is not even that which has evolved from a childish fling. It is something called My Person Condition.

And it is more complex, still. It is worthy of noting that a condition is identified in a modified fashion. See that this is no disease, no ailment, no illness. An unfortunate victim has no hopes of returning to their former, less-impaired self, but their opinions are clouded so fully that this, to them, brings upon great advantages. Yet the scars and piercing truths that lurk within MPC prove to be a particularly heavy load for most to carry.

The earliest symptoms may include the following: loss of appetite, perspiration, anxious breathing, spotted vision, hallucinations, reclusiveness, futuristic thoughts, rage, severe bipolar tendencies, self-contradiction, loss of sleep, loss of energy, sorrow, hopefulness, nightmares, and ****** rejection resulting in extractions such as emesis, urination, and excessive bleeding. Patients will also find difficulty in restricting their thoughts to those which do not include their person. The danger that lies within this condition is extensive, but can be overturned with the proper care and medical attention.

Perhaps I have refrained from discussing the most detrimental force assigned to any MPC sufferer, and that is the false sense of progression of mental feelings of stability. As days move on, and nights drag out into the next, new faces are introduced at an increasingly rapid rate. This can be destructive in the sense that the victim will gain a false grip on reality. They will reject further treatment, stand down in a circulation of positive vibrations, and cease to recall the importance of their continuous efforts against their condition.

A day rolls around in several years. They share feelings of gratitude and affection with another being, pretending that their person has left their mind for good. Until the radio threatens to remind them of so long ago, the compulsive nights that were spent in pursuit of an extra pinch of knowledge. Until the box fills the patient's ears with a sweet melodic voice spun from pure gold and coated in the finest finish. MPC revives itself like a flame inside their heart, inside their bloodstream. Renewal flows through their veins at a painless rate - until a grin spreads across their face, their head is turned back around, and there they are.
My Person.
07-06-18
Scarlett Jul 2018
force fed lies from birth
subliminal messages infest my upbringing
blindfolded by greed
I don't see you starve
or smell the pollution
I can't hear the bullets flying
because my ears are stuffed with lies
they say the government has my interests at heart
that the school systems are built to support me
and we're more equal than ever
so why is the wage gap wider than my young eyes
and how is it that a country that screams freedom
won't put down their weapons
when their children are bleeding
why do I know how to dissect a frog
ignorant of the fact innocent civilians are slaughtered
intestines on display
like the green amphibian under my knife
because I can kiss a girl
in a drunken game of spin the bottle
but such an act would get me killed in 11 countries
and is still illegal in 72
why do I know the sum of internal angles in a triangle
yet I don't know how
to read the signs of suicidal friends
when statistically 1 out of 5 people I roam the halls with
struggle with a mental illness
even though more than half of those suffering
have no access to treatment
we are collectively clueless
I am no stranger to privilege
my gratitude is not withheld
but why am I more worthy
than the child forced out of his country
for his religious identity,
for being himself?
why when accessing the privilege of education
they don't teach me how to help other humans
when did sums become more important
than knowledge of current wars
did you know there's more than 10 of them?
because I've only heard of one
I believe that you choose to do nothing
but if i am never aware that I have a choice
nothing can change
and even though everyone has a voice
people with the solutions only choose to hear those with a status
how is it that such screams of desperation
sound so quiet to them
why are those in power of whole countries
so blind to our demands
why do they make things impossibly easier
for those whom already have wealth and advantage
when those stripped of human rights
always seem to escape their greedy sight
but some of us have something they fear
something that never crossed their closed minds
we have the power to create our own opportunities
we can force those whom are voluntarily deaf to hear
so hear me in my passage only seen by very few
this platform may be small but my words shout at you
an action no matter how small
a voice no matter how soft
provokes change if not in yourself
then in even the most unfamiliar faces
but the difference between thinking and action making
is you
Astral Sep 13
Hand in hand,
Certain emotions go.
Like passion and envy,
Or anger and jealousy.

Like red and green,
They compliment each other.

Passion that fuels the envy.
Full of fire and frenzy,
Pulsating out.
The envy creeping in with tendrils,
A seething mass of resentment and desire.

Anger that provokes the jealousy.
Raging with pain and misery,
Seeping out.
The deap jealousy pooling,
A grasping puddle of hurt and greed.
Olivia A Keaton Sep 2018
tears landing
too softly
on the pillow.

music, background noise,
because silence
provokes my deadly thoughts.

as I cry myself to sleep,
still, I think of you.
I try to imagine your voice.

it’s much better than my lullaby
O.K

— The End —