"pulsar" poems
Go on with haste and fly through this undawning memory of love,
What is the moon looking up at, perhaps a dance of pulsar stars ?
What is the sun looking down at, perhaps the life growing from light?
An eternal sinner wanders under their light, with no aim, no goal,
All he carries shall be the pride in his heart, with undying love burning as bright as a hyper nova in the nearby young nightsky,
Lingering sadness seeps it's way through, to the surface of the moon, forever to be bound in an orbit, overshadowed, shining in lesser light,
Yet does it oversee, what beauty it brings to the night, or what it would be if darkness reigned supreme without it and the stars to rise?
Enlighting the darkest of nights for us, forgotten it keeps up his duty,
For maybe, even if just one is touched by his luminosity it would be enough to keep going, until the time comes to greet the break of dawn
The milkyway alike a river of stars, each with their own story to tell,
Stars stand with their secret hidden, an orbital parent to many planets
The sky is the eternity in a land of pure fantasy and hope after all,
A dream which knows no death till its termination draws near,
But isn't waking up the commencement of something far greater ?
~ Umi
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
In Stardust,
Is where can hopes be born,
But also, where a star has died, violently, explosively, shining out light so brilliant it would roar if it hit the atmosphere, illuminate it,
It is hot, alike the purgatory with a sweet look to gaze at if you observe the planetary nebulae by a far, far distance of course,
The dreams of the nova remnant, spread across space, left is but a small piece of dense matter, pulsating light cast by it's fast spin,
It is but a pulsar, or rather this old lady could be called one of the many lighthouses of our beloved widely beautiful universe,
Shining brilliantly even after death, isn't that what we all desire ?
If sadness clouds your judgement and you have nowhere to run,
And if you feel lonely in a starlit sky, worrying about the past long gone, losing yourself to your recurring, cruel thoughts,
Just remember, that you too, once were part of a bright, shining star which once too used to brighten up the dark, cold night for one else.
~ Umi
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 6:08 PM UTC
The fish does not understand
Water
But the stray-nine
Understands home
Sometimes it takes an absence
A negativity, a darkness
From the dust dream rises
Like stars from the void
Someone rides an elevator up
Your spine and
Bridge
The direction is born
Soul tendrils extend and
Embrace tender lock of we
Season together
The fat men starve before the
Peasant because they
Have never really
Ached
In their stomachs
In their bones
When you live in famine
Scraps can sustain
And yet
Will you still notice the
Seven shade cycle rainbow-nectaring
From the street lanterns?
Or the
Diamonds
In ivory fro-banks glittering sparks?
When you are full
Will you
Ponder the pulsar’s violence?
Will you
Spare the stranger and Samaritan oft?
When you are full
Don’t lose it
Sadness is
Your prism
Choose the spectrum
Transcend the neut and stag
You can be their Atlas
They
Need
It
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
At 15 we were women
And at 12 we were sexualized, scrutinized , afraid , wary , shameful .
Plain Sight is the best place to hide something,
What do you stand for?
We are made from the creative ****** force,
So don’t tell me that I must be dressed up like a pig after slaughter to experience
Sexuality….
I’m made from an ******
I’m an ******* repercussions…
And I won’t be told any different
No matter how “scary” you make *** sound
I’m pure ENERGY WALKING.
I’m a cosmic bliss wave flowing….
What do you stand for?
At 15 we were women , but we didn’t know what it was to respect our wombs for the stargates they are.
At 12 we were sexualized , scrutinized , afraid , wary , shameful of the natural blooming of this cosmic force, sneaking looks at naked ladies on the internet
but we didn’t know how to respect that shaking energy that called out
so we hid it , underneath our pillows.
Plain sight is the best place to hide something , and right there on the cover of The Sun or Daily Star is the most powerful force for change on this planet.
A woman…
And her ****** power –
If a woman can create a child from her own energy systems in 9 months
Then what do you think that power could do to a project or idea
Over .. say 5 years…?
What you stand for is where you invest your attention.
But for now we march on –
Because there are forces mightier than any human being
And they move despite all our frantic pride and jealousy ,
hatred and pain
they move in our heartbeats and in that solar flare , or the pulsar star on the other side of the universe
they move in the spaces dark energy
they move
crescendos rising
majestic beyond any king or queen
holy like you’ve never been privy to
the forces that move in the wild flowers breath
power the changes on our planet .
Balance is coming
Will you be in balance?
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
Others promised
to fill your eyes
with stars. Only stars.
But I will populate
your mind with galaxies,
complete the space
with swirling clouds
of asteroids and
black holes to swallow
your sadness. After all,
stars are obviously bright
and beautiful, but alone.
I will help to discover
somewhere within yourself
the need to create
constellations of us,
where our myths
and morals intertwine.
You and I and our
moments, syzygy.
Gravity only exists,
so we can fall together
but still weightless
to see that our mass
doesn’t affect our matter.
How stars collapse
under their own weight,
fading out, is so unlike
the way we expand
amongst the cosmos,
heavenly bodies of ours
joining the rest in the halo,
interstellar where I will
cascade over you, a pulsar
radiating waves of energy.
These shockwaves form
a singularity of us,
with no time or direction
but we know what we are;
a meteor shower for those
still simply Earth bound.
Gazing into the sun, they
promised stars, blinded.
Blinding, our explosion
of formation from nothing.
Let there be planets
where beings flourish
and evolve, and I will
gift you their moons,
the craters filled with
dust of my words hidden
where no winds can
ever disturb them.
They promised you
stars, so you can become
a satellite and orbit
and worship their light.
I will give myself,
a supernova, and you
will learn to craft galaxies
so I can explore them
within you, and revel at
the beauty of the unknown.
Our universe won’t fit
in their telescopes.
V. K.
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 3:27 AM UTC
Say baby, can I be your slave?
I've got to admit girl, your the **** girl
And I am digging you like a grave
Now do they call you daughter to the Spinning Pulsar
Or maybe Queen of 10,000 Moons, Sister to the distant yet
Rising star
Is your name Yemaya? Oh hell nah, it's got to be Oshun
Ooh is that a smile me put on your face child?
Wide as a field of jasmine and clover
Talk that talk honey, walk that walk money
High on legs that'll spite Jehovah
**** who am I
It's not important
But they call me brother to the night
And right now I am the blues in your left thigh
Trying to become the funk in your right
Who am I? 'll be whoever you say
But right now I'm the sight ***** hunter
Blindly pursuing you as my prey
And I just want to give you injections of
Sublime erections and get you to dance to my rhythm
Make you dream archtypes
Of black angels in flight
Upon wings of distorted, contorted metaphoric ****
Come on slim, **** your man, I ain't worried about him
It's you who I want to step to my scene
Cause rather than deal with the fallacy
Of this dry *** reality
I'd rather dance and romance your sweet *** in a wet dream
Who am I, well they all call me
Brother to the night and right now I am
The blues in your left thigh, trying to be the funk in your right
Is that alright?
by: Larenz Tate
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
(in life)
who am i to warm a cave of darkness with my lust?
or assume your darkness mine to dissipate?
as if a sacred candle burned behind the windows of my heart
and ****** its light through tip of flame beyond
,above the piercing point to spark our confirmation in a universal eye
invisible, but seen as heat you flail about
and cause to quake the melting, sliding crust i am
you have wandered by to rupture me from my serene espy.
to quarrel with mycenterself i turned into myself i am a fool,
how can a taint intention claim essential gravity to good?
encumbered with a blinding zeal
i almost rage amid to satisfy
irrupt, and only drape with words i barely see defined
to justify the greed
in unknown passions gathered out to sun,
eyes aglint of golden maxims worn
by public distorts, magisters of lies
spilling over paths..the voyeuristic farce of virtuosity and virtue mating there
commodities of ****** pride and shame
that cater to ambition's lurid lure:
massively conjoined our worlds, aswirl
transform the pulsar-vortex at the base of me
from threaten-fount to million-twiching node
it sears the face from all our superficial doubts,
gluts us writhing mercy in oblivion.
...transparency collects an inner soot
as we devour red-tip wicks in wax we puddle with our sport--
the outer glass respires steam into the winter nights
--hot against the skin
in flesh embarking in that window *** at last,
we smudge our bodies over every icy pane
--entwined, concupiscent flames
to blacken out the world we claim as only there for us
.
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 1:57 PM UTC
It may be that you were an astronaut before
And now you clamber unknown chambers of my heart,
Knocking down the tilt-up walls
To find the inner space of your reservoir
And your oxygen; my bloodstream
My heart; your pulsar beating out cosmic revelations
My future; framed by your unblinking past
Terminal comets tumble alongside
Undisturbing of the velocity of your experiment
Exploding suns in supernovae spin-cycles
Left your scientific mood untouched
The last horizon, my need for security
Has been hitched to your superior fuselage
Now we float together, at the end of a single lifeline
I breathe out as you breathe in
A symbiotic bellows, in perfection geared
Neither of us make a move
Except we go in the same instant of direction
This must be what heaven feels like
At the end of time and acceleration,
Facing the unknowns inherent in the expedition
There were never any promises made,
Discovering the wonders and terrors of deep space
And at the finish of my hibernation,
I awaken to explore a mysterious new portal:
Held open for me, an orbital doorway
In galactic eyes of bluest heaven-shine
Which will stir the primordial chaos of my existence.
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 1:25 PM UTC
I, who is staring at the night sky,
Wondering if everything will be fine.
Beautiful stars made the evening bright,
Will never be the same without the light.
The beauty that caught my attention,
Feeling of emotional connection.
I wanted to give it my affection,
And relieving the ferocious corrosion.
Shining bright as the quasar,
Can be seen, even though it is so far.
Having the uniqueness of a pulsar,
No one will ever be on par.
Things that remained unknown.
The universe that which has grown.
More mysteries that are yet to be known,
Like the history of the pre-historic bones.
You, who are zooming like a shooting star,
Started the throbbing of my heart.
You are turning into a neutron star,
Pulling me closer like a magnetar.
The world that has no reverse.
Started changing after the converse.
One's known as the universe,
Has now split into a multiverse.
Jun 4, 2022
Jun 4, 2022 at 12:52 PM UTC
Limbo
Black hole quasar pulsar star meridians oblique oracle messages from beyond the lost between the bureau of the forgotten
Dreams images disjointed some admirably projected on the screen of the mind they tell you a mystery where is the key
Like being in a library books everywhere any subject any topic whatever your taste or fancy but without retrieval how rotten
Space fascinates holds men enthralled the searching of the cosmos the whole of life it has consumed the overly curious
What I’m talking about is if you could take a meteor shower put it in a black velvet bag capture true magic hold for your disposal
Take droplets of rain speak to them and they would obey your voice become for one hour that which you desire most from life
Find the passage to the center of the mountain a gapping cave where a true oracle is beheld divine utterance her real espousal
You take knowledge long hidden disperse it among the most troubled and confused and aura breaks and arches those of need
Life’s dilemmas and contrasts these intangible twisted knotted fields of gloom you touch bows unknown understanding blooms
Course contrary buffeted by unpleasant wind oh to know how to rescind make rays of hope grow in resplendent rows
The common coal fired and pressured over millennia does purist light ignite the mind soul and heart in excitement it consumes
Striation found in the cold glacier this natural marking take from it learn the soul has divine grooves that only play spiritual tunes
This might sound farfetched but one day it will be the norm for Gods family the unexpected the unbelievable your daily life
Now we are in neutral or the drive is mostly in the natural like you build the best house then someone sticks up an eye sore
There is the contrast the conflict your spiritual house shines then your enemy self wrecks and devalues ruination rife
The spirit oracle revealed that the devil wants you as a trophy in a case how nice God wants you but he wants you as family
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 8:43 PM UTC
April 17th
In the eternal cold, dark and void,
Where drifting clouds make up everything we know,
Where terrible storms are givers of life,
Where the strongest prevail over anything else,
There is a bright star.
A pulsar in the void
Shining bright, untamed, wild
In this chaos there is order
The order of that pulsar
Even though there’s hundreds of stars
Only few shine as bright
Not everyone can see this
Some people think all stars shine equally bright
Some misinterpret brightness
Some don’t want to see
But I do
I see the pulsar
Shining bright, untamed, wild
And I admit I’m lucky to see the stars
In the void and chaos
Sometimes I believe this happens because I’m a star too
I know that I can shine bright
Brighter than most of the clutter out there,
Or at least, I thought
From the tiny corner of the void I could see
I knew I was always the brightest
No one could challenge me
A king on a tiny hill
But that changed
My tiny corner of the void got a little bigger
And I saw something new
A pulsar in the void
Shines bright, strong
Few things look this bright
And it terrifies me
It terrifies me because now I’m but a dormant star
I always knew how bright I could shine
But never tried to shine that bright
Today I see a pulsar in the void
And realize that I’m not the brightest one anymore
I need to shine brighter now
But I don’t know if it’s too late
I’m but a dormant star
Shadow of a former glory
A small brown dwarf
Staring at a pulsar in the void
And the idea of not being able to shine as bright
Terrifies me.
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 10:59 AM UTC
After a while
it tastes like sweetwater,
and I can bumble through a bar crowd
with haletosis.
The heartless jest
is this,
I call you
and call you
and call you.
This is the heartless jest,
and in the pantheon
of the heart,
I am minor Hermes
ferrying messages of love
across the brutal galaxies
to a lover
that will never hear me
in the suffocation of nebulas.
The nebulas where i was reborn
and died in an instant
of fire so rapid
that it could break a pulsar
in two.
I have found the vaccuum of space
to be comforting,
it hugs me with a feirceness
that I have never known
and a love for my oxygen
that is downright flattering.
Mar 13, 2012
Mar 13, 2012 at 11:44 PM UTC
*LISTENING
Poetry is so strange;
like a stiletto sharp moon
it shines our hearts
with midnight wonders.
And, by its glow I read,
**"our deep cosmic loneliness
and our starboard hearts
where love careens,
we are listening,
the small bipeds
with the giant dreams."**
***
*Yes D.A., we are listening
to the pulsar songs
played in the universe.
We are listening
for others,
who just may be listening for us.*
***
*Seduction is like this you know;
subtle, uncertain,
even fragile at times;
yet irresistable as Lilacs
beckoning the moon.
Seduction is also a
summer down pour
we willingly get caught in,
jumping greedily
in puddles,
laughing,
just happy to be together.
We listen to the patterns
water splashing made;
listen for others
to hear what they have to say,
even if they were many galaxies away.*
***
*We listen.
We wait, but not idly.
We listen, write poetry
sharp, like a stiletto moon.
And, under its midnight glow,
hold hands.*
*NOTE: the bold quoted lines are from a
poem called "We Are Listening", by
Diane Ackerman found in her book
entitled "Jaguar of Sweet Laughter".*
Aztec Warrior
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 12:27 PM UTC
Nighttime session, the troops gathered in the barracks
I am the early bird waiting while I think of words
See the sorry *** in the glass start to mutate
My face scrambles in a madman’s flash of brilliance
I shake in disbelief, making my supposed normal return
The last of many flashbacks to a freaky fungus festival
My companions enter the stomping ground unaware
A trace of spasm in my body, of light refraction in my gaze
Within ten seconds I went from stagnant and stationary
To drunkenly wobbling, blind-deaf-mute-terrified
My vision was the first, flooding steadily with snowy diamonds
I noticed a distinct detachment from myself and my location
Head began to throb and ears shot jets of sound
Like a pulsar detectable to keen eye on rampage
Bright white light, increasingly suffocated by diamonds blinding
Sick and driven to escape, my face drained of all color
My surprise became overwhelming and unbearable to me
I made a hopeless barge through blurry barrier
Dive into the bed that will bring me sane comfort
Curl in ball, pathetic and fetal, waiting for the war to end
Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 6:02 PM UTC
"Teu amor me escoria,
vítima de seu fulgurar;
Por dentro o meu e o teu são igualhas,
mas por fora minha língua te é ignota.
De certa forma meu fomentar te é írrito.
mas sabemos que só está tentando se isentar.
Por que teu amor me é um metonímio?
Obtusindo tentativas falhas de se esvairar.
Façamos um preito entre nós, obstinado a não pulgir, mas sim pulsar,
e finalmente parar de quitar e demonstrar,
que a frincha desse amor nos faz frisar…
Perceber que nem as próprias estrelas se equiparam
a esse sentimento a perfurar nossas veias,
e nossos peitos.
E de repente o que parecia entenebrecido,
estava enternecido.
E minha taça de vinho que havia esvaziado,
ensandecia com a necessidade de transbordar de você.
Ente ao ensurdecer de sua boca.
Ente ao enleio de minha mente louca.
Que se perguntava hora a hora, por quê?"
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 10:36 PM UTC
beat poet
the lines, the times
they are a changin'
entropy of empathy
the anthem won't explain it
the world just keeps on turning
and warming up the globe
nations of hate hotter than warheads
hate ain't what they pay us for
be a boss but don't be bossy,
boxing in a corner lot
everyones a leader
leading no one
supply and demand spinning pulsar-fast
economies based on wars
collapsing under peacetime
without fires
the lobbies smothered fighters
beat poet
the lines, the times
they are a changin'
entropy of empathy
the anthem won't explain it
inflation cannot haul us up
here at the bottom of the heap
can't even afford the beep
beep that tells us what's wrong in our hearts
medical bills ticking higher numbers than volumes of get-well cards
we're under attack
our changing family pact
beat poet
the lines, the times
they are a changin'
entropy of empathy
the anthem won't explain it
spoken word, short form
bytes from sharpened canines
written word, formatted to the dimensions of our icons
glittering oh one around us in the haze
our might in roaming-charged clouds of war
you can burn the papers
ban the books
we weren't writing in your margins anyway
our beat is undrummed, uncensored by you
language we took, righteous and true
and the ideas we kept to hurl out
our aim would be true
shout now
aim for us, beat poets
beat poet the times they are a changin'
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 10:50 AM UTC
I need to be inside.
To bend your bones around me,
To fill your throat with rabid flesh
to claw your shiny hide..
I hurt to break your prim veneer,
Your fingers pulled in knots of hair
Your lupine drool upon my hand
Your spike of stammered sigh..
I need to be inside
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 11:32 AM UTC
If music were Arrhythmic it would consider us
On tinsel wire lit into net to beads
Eternally reaping
The clink of solar windmills
Echoing, echoing until it becomes flesh,
Tired, ringing decibels
Filling with water and becoming eyes
So that Death is a character
Swimming just past the horizon;
Collisions become heartbeats
Become locomotive thoughts
Charging westerly winds
Until our faces hone, stormed
And born.
Only my soul is left to fall,
Cygnus x-1 in a pool,
My life a distant call
Catalogued by the stars,
Noted for declination; classified pulsar
My words are dust in another’s space
But they recall fire and I blazed;
Numerically, years;
Physically, rage
And the only thing that breathed were dreams
And they sail, eternally, past the rhyme (Time)
They’ll still float when I return to haunt you;
They cast no light but they guide and sigh.
Alive
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 5:11 PM UTC
i fall into you, backwards,
spinning like a pulsar
in a spiral of ecstasy
i fall into you, my black hole,
and i feel light years tall:
a galactic river of emotion
your gravity pulls me to your mouth
and escape becomes impossible
but it doesn't matter:
escape was never my intention
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
So you are
A phosphorescent relic,
A relic that spins together
Nights and mornings alone-
Spinning in the mind like
Perfect spiral in a landscape that
Overflows with your magnetic sphere.
And the orbit
Comes and goes,
From my eyes to a tear,
From a tear to the sky with blue
Waves of current that wallows
Where you were.
Hear me,
Fallen star of my night,
The whirlpool of your hair
In solar winds,
Deafening winds,
Heavy winds,
When your blue sun brings a storm
Whirling in magnetic memories
Hypnotic and joyous.
Speak, speak Pulsar,
When the earth recites your name,
Pulsar, cry for me,
With your esteemed Aura like a lost
Nebula
At the crest of the world,
Searching without finding.
This is the hour,
Because your dead star
Still burns and makes light,
And it still shines
And someone,
Someone like me must see it.
Pulsation in my ethereal being,
I believed in dark stars
But don't believe in reading those
I see,
Pulsar you were hope in the light,
And now a radioactive desire
Of my past.
Oh but we tore the night apart,
We constellated passions
And danced upon the penumbra
In the galactic sea.
Begin again,
We can sail away on the moon,
Turn the world into a playground,
Begin again Pulsar
Within an orchestral sky.
However you were gone,
A blue giant in a tiny galaxy,
And I was only a firefly,
No, not a firefly,
An ember of a fire that burned
Out a million miles away.
Ressurection of your light,
Wage the gravity towards me,
And I say Pulsar,
I remember when we were in the same sky.
You are the infinite memory,
Your lies smell of Heaven and nothing
Else,
And you are a reflection on the horizon
Of the sea,
The glimmer of my yesterday.
The sky will open
And the sea shimmers,
The moon moans,
Pulsar, sweet memory ,
Magnetosphere of my pain.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 8:41 PM UTC
Remember your true calling /
As the susurrant breeze wafts your epidermis /
And the platinum moon glistens /
Atop the clouded expanse of The Cimmerian Skies. /
Know The Transcendental One walks with you /
Forces unseen fight for thee, /
You are enclaved within the omnipresent mist, /
Of Jehovah God, The Most High. /
"But you are 'a chosen race, a royal priesthood, /
A holy nation, a people for special possession, /
That you should declare abroad the excellencies of the One who called you /
Out of darkness into his wonderful light.'" —1st Peter 2: 9 (NWTSE) /
Equip yourselves for your pilgrimage /
Doven divine Aether, /
For strength, wisdom, justice, love, /
Courage, beauty, & indefatigability. /
Your journey is yours & yours alone, /
Walk through the rain unafraid, /
Believe in The Light when Stygian Shadows fall, /
Cleave to The Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love as you effloresce in The Light of The Sun. /
Your testimony is power, /
Your story is a shockwave pulsar through The Ages; /
Therefore, use your promenade down the experiential cascade /
To prepare your souls for eternity. /
(—Se' lah)
Feb 23, 2024
Feb 23, 2024 at 4:46 PM UTC
make love to a poet and you will feel
everything
all at once
as if the earth’s core
has shattered
and all the planets have been stretched into
long ropes
and intertwined
along the milky way
make love to a poet and you will feel
as though each verse
is inside of each panting moan
and as though each rhythm
is within each twisting ******
and your body will become numb
as it contorts
to turn existentialism into a heart beat
make love to a poet and you will experience
every word ever created
by each mouth brought to life
grazing your bare flesh
with each centimeter of their fingertips
meeting the quivering abdomen
and although every word is with you in this moment
you will beg the universe
to let you speak them
because when you make love to a poet
you become one
with a language
one unspoken and one the vice
you will melt into song
when you make love to a poet
all the love that ever was
or ever will be
becomes trapped within a single drop of sweat
and all the fear
that was summoned for the world to share
becomes confined within each sharp gasp
make love to a poet and you will feel the
creation of a galaxy inside of you
the stars will cling to your veins
and they will dance in your blood
and the planets will be caught in the gravity
of your lungs
and so you will breathe in moons
and breathe out aries
and asteroids will blast through your throat
for the rest of your being
if you make love to a poet
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
Daylight shades
paint the frames
and Instagram pages
with beautiful smiles
and short blond locks
that look out at
the world with
a certain
curiousness.
Snapshot moments
of social projections
pushed out onto
the internet
so strangers
can view
those small lies,
because
these pictures
do not know
or show
a quarter of
the truth.
Behind the
staged displays
of fun and cosplay
there are
dark shadows
with deep corners
where broken hearts
bleed clutching
their bruised wrists
and split lips.
Where blood drips
on the cracked tip
of the kitchen
counter top.
There are
repeated rapes,
cruelty and denial,
honesty rejected,
and despairing.
There is
a sense of
resignation
to not let this
invasion
define her life.
There is abandonment
from those who should have
safe guarded
her pulsar heart,
there is
injustice,
and while
the darkness
has not swallowed
her soul whole
yet,
she still finds time
to give light
to a friend
who was trying to lend
a compassionate ear
to her.
These photos
do not dare
to chart the depths
seldom shared,
or explore more
then mere outward
pleasantries.
There is so much
left to see, hear,
and hold dear,
deep conversation,
neuroscience
and psychology
discussion
that are enlightening,
so much more
then mere flesh,
or hastened breathed
burnt by
desirous men
and their
unwanted intrusions.
There is dark art
and a heart yearning
for the burning
of an honest
and caring love,
one that runs
from safe fields
searching desperately
for the person they need
to protect
because to do otherwise
would destroy their life.
These photographs
are little lies
that we put out in the world,
smiles that hide
possible fast
or very slow
suicides,
especially if
there is
no one
ever around
to ask
“Are you ok?”
and if not
then to ask
“why?”
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 9:28 AM UTC
I am not of this world
My eyes are not eyes
They are Black Holes
Swallowing this universe whole
My heart is not a heart
It is a Pulsar
******* you dry
My soul is not simply a soul
It is a Nebula
Forging the birth of stars
My body is not just a body
It is a Galaxy
Holding the celestial organs of my Super Nova
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 3:33 AM UTC