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"quiescence" poems
I want to be intimate with you Not bare bodied and touching But a different sort I want to see your soul as it is Stripped down into nothing Your demons in their raw existence I want to hold each one on its own Until I can understand how it feels to live them I want to hear your voice scratchy and strained at 3am And listen as words fall from your mouth into mine Late night thoughts and questions I want to learn your mind like it is the only book I will ever read Memorize it top to bottom like it is my bible You are enough religion for me to understand why we're here I want to understand you I want your dreams to come to me like I can make them real Tell me your secrets like I am the journal you have been hoping to find The empty pages you have been waiting to fill your whole life I want to know it all I want to know your fears Your worries Your happiness And everything that keeps you up at night I want to be the thing that keeps you up at night I want to be the morning sun that you cannot wait to wake to And when you do, I will continue to get to know you better I don't need your hands on me Or your skin against mine To be close to you The best form of intimacy Is loving someone without knowing how it feels To touch them without clothes on The best form of intimacy Is realizing you can open yourself up completey without holding anything back The best form of intimacy Is laughing and not caring at all how you sound The best form of intimacy Is talking for minutes that turn into hours that turn into tomorrow The best form of intimacy Is time spent wasting The best form of intimacy Is moments Is patience Is devotion and commitment With no guarantee of satisfaction It is surrender It is vulnerability It is now The best form of intimacy Is quiescence It is the purest method Of affection.
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Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
Intimacy
I want to be intimate with you Not bare bodied and touching But a different sort I want to see your soul as it is Stripped down into nothing Your demons in their raw existence I want to hold each one on its own Until I can understand how it feels to live them I want to hear your voice scratchy and strained at 3am And listen as words fall from your mouth into mine Late night thoughts and questions I want to learn your mind like it is the only book I will ever read Memorize it top to bottom like it is my bible You are enough religion for me to understand why we're here I want to understand you I want your dreams to come to me like I can make them real Tell me your secrets like I am the journal you have been hoping to find The empty pages you have been waiting to fill your whole life I want to know it all I want to know your fears Your worries Your happiness And everything that keeps you up at night I want to be the thing that keeps you up at night I want to be the morning sun that you cannot wait to wake to And when you do, I will continue to get to know you better I don't need your hands on me Or your skin against mine To be close to you The best form of intimacy Is loving someone without knowing how it feels To touch them without clothes on The best form of intimacy Is realizing you can open yourself up completey without holding anything back The best form of intimacy Is laughing and not caring at all how you sound The best form of intimacy Is talking for minutes that turn into hours that turn into tomorrow The best form of intimacy Is time spent wasting The best form of intimacy Is moments Is patience Is devotion and commitment With no guarantee of satisfaction It is surrender It is vulnerability It is now The best form of intimacy Is quiescence It is the purest method Of affection.
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53
Knees on the ground, he said: "The calling of the abyss, the beckons from the smoke, the waters down below, I'm falling with ease." But I came from his rib. I bow, –submissive– In quiescence I can't preach. Yet my veil grows. Take my hand. Anointed or not; Man, I am your glory.
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Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 1:12 AM UTC
Saving Adam
Just for a handful of silver he left us, Just for a riband to stick in his coat— Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us, Lost all the others she lets us devote; They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver, So much was theirs who so little allowed: How all our copper had gone for his service! Rags—were they purple, his heart had been proud! We that had loved him so, followed him, honoured him, Lived in his mild and magnificent eye, Learned his great language, caught his clear accents, Made him our pattern to live and to die! Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us, Burns, Shelley, were with us,—they watch from their graves! He alone breaks from the van and the freemen, He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves! We shall march prospering,—not through his presence; Songs may inspirit us,—not from his lyre; Deeds will be done,—while he boasts his quiescence, Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire: Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more, One task more declined, one more footpath untrod, One more triumph for devils and sorrow for angels, One wrong more to man, one more insult to God! Life’s night begins: let him never come back to us! There would be doubt, hesitation and pain, Forced praise on our part—the glimmer of twilight, Never glad confident morning again! Best fight on well, for we taught him—strike gallantly, Menace our heart ere we pierce through his own; Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us, Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne!
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2.3k
The Lost Leader
Just for a handful of silver he left us, Just for a riband to stick in his coat— Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us, Lost all the others she lets us devote; They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver, So much was theirs who so little allowed: How all our copper had gone for his service! Rags—were they purple, his heart had been proud! We that had loved him so, followed him, honoured him, Lived in his mild and magnificent eye, Learned his great language, caught his clear accents, Made him our pattern to live and to die! Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us, Burns, Shelley, were with us,—they watch from their graves! He alone breaks from the van and the freemen, He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves! We shall march prospering,—not through his presence; Songs may inspirit us,—not from his lyre; Deeds will be done,—while he boasts his quiescence, Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire: Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more, One task more declined, one more footpath untrod, One more triumph for devils and sorrow for angels, One wrong more to man, one more insult to God! Life’s night begins: let him never come back to us! There would be doubt, hesitation and pain, Forced praise on our part—the glimmer of twilight, Never glad confident morning again! Best fight on well, for we taught him—strike gallantly, Menace our heart ere we pierce through his own; Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us, Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne!
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32
They ask me to stand up to exercise and play, to run, to swim, to fly. Very well... One and all advise quiescence, recommend counterpoisons, refer doctors. they peek on me, perplexed. "What's wrong?" They suggest new sightings, to try and get out, to not travel, to cease living and to not perish. It doesn't matter… One and all see my struggle for my bewildered expectancies, the stumble of my now fickle nerve. I do not consent… One and all pick on my plagiarisms with relentless blades, judging, berating, amused. I feel fear. Frightened of everything, of this morning's light, of the certain defeat. For today I'm just a mortal, decrepit and ephemeral. For all this and more, on these short days I'm not listening, I'm not here. I yield, I strive again, I succumb. I lock myself with and I open up to my worst and most treacherous enemy, "U" (my ego)
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Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 4:03 AM UTC
ego (ltl)
Staid solitude and silence lend me ease from mind’s congestion, tongue’s propensive burl toward chatter’s looping, irritating whirl— exchanging dervish dust for bonny breeze. My soul may sing and soar from quiet’s nest or sit in stillest calm without weight’s care within the waiting, because God is there who knows me, hears me, grants me sweeping rest. The Everlasting God, the LORD o’er all who understands me, loves me with no end— most faithful, fervent Confidante and Friend— pervades the sweet quiescence with His call, “Here in My peace, come find your heart’s desire. Serene in Me, soul catches My love’s fire.”
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May 23, 2022
May 23, 2022 at 10:34 AM UTC
In Quietude (Sonnet)
Peculiar Spring Seeps through my skin Invades my soul And garrotes me within Unhurried strangulation My spirit weakens A rush of horror At the sight of the Warden He's cloaked in death Speaks with decaying breath "It's all foredoomed I'm threading this path" Limbs frozen stiff Hasten, flee … if Death travels swiftly Radiating a putrid whiff A nipping hoarfrost Spring slays those embossed Come Summer, come Before I completely exhaust This peculiar Spring Its nature - bristling Beneath a flaccid quiescence I'm being garroted within
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Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 4:55 PM UTC
Peculiar Spring
Tracing the thoughts with a fingertip Lining the clouds with silver Present feelings from past mistakes Proof that change is good Perspicuity from a lazy dream Thoughts like jumping beans Bouncing off of shady corners Waking what lies in quiescence Scratching light into the darkness With a stretch and a yawn Folding what was into what is Forming what will be
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May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 7:20 PM UTC
Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow
Part I The fragile, forgotten arctic perseveres; the white snowy tundra wrapped in a blanket of darkness. The buried threads of memory under hardened, ice plastered arctic waters. Why always to be submerged? Can you feel the freezing? As if only icebergs can gather the brine of the ocean to itself and never let go. What does not return fungal and muddy in more corporeal climes travels toward the poles. Is there an alternative to ice bound quiescence? As if what has passed to the extremities of mind is not forever lost. And so I follow the leads, swimming in the cracks of what forgetting has not claimed. Will even these channels soon freeze over? As life travels northward intent on testing the conditions of existence. Part II Under an icy sheet of polar sky; fissures of light weeping through an immovable, immeasurable surface. The strongest force in the universe embeds the foundation of our undulating, fractured lives. Does that which holds us together also keep us apart? As light is held in tension between being and becoming, revealing and altering. Our wavering hearts like solitary planets seek orbit around a suitable center. Do we choose the star which gives light to our days? As our gravity reels, heedlessly casting for moons or meteors in passage. And so the hushed wall spreads a river of blazing reds and somber greens. Do the gaps in our comprehension expand imagination or despair? As memory embeds each frozen expanse, touching where the horizon unfolds.
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Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 9:31 AM UTC
The Geography of Memory
Part I The fragile, forgotten arctic perseveres; the white snowy tundra wrapped in a blanket of darkness. The buried threads of memory under hardened, ice plastered arctic waters. Why always to be submerged? Can you feel the freezing? As if only icebergs can gather the brine of the ocean to itself and never let go. What does not return fungal and muddy in more corporeal climes travels toward the poles. Is there an alternative to ice bound quiescence? As if what has passed to the extremities of mind is not forever lost. And so I follow the leads, swimming in the cracks of what forgetting has not claimed. Will even these channels soon freeze over? As life travels northward intent on testing the conditions of existence. Part II Under an icy sheet of polar sky; fissures of light weeping through an immovable, immeasurable surface. The strongest force in the universe embeds the foundation of our undulating, fractured lives. Does that which holds us together also keep us apart? As light is held in tension between being and becoming, revealing and altering. Our wavering hearts like solitary planets seek orbit around a suitable center. Do we choose the star which gives light to our days? As our gravity reels, heedlessly casting for moons or meteors in passage. And so the hushed wall spreads a river of blazing reds and somber greens. Do the gaps in our comprehension expand imagination or despair? As memory embeds each frozen expanse, touching where the horizon unfolds.
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22
Quiescence: The world yet to be; change is imminent. Excrescence: The world as holistic; change is traumatic. Juvenescence: The world as wondrous; change is fascinating. Adolescence: The world as oppressive; change is institutional. Tumescence: The world as idealized; change is self-discovery. Hyalescence: The world as conceived; change is forgotten. Obsolescence: The world as impossible; change is unimaginable. Senescence: The world as finite; change is death. Obmutescence: The world beyond conception; change is māyā. Latescence: The world as a memory; change is time. Putrescence: The world as continuous; change is nature. Rejuvenescence: The world in utero; change is birth.
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Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 6:45 PM UTC
Cyclical
Needed someone to love someone to hold, someone to fall for Couldn't I have told You, that I wasn't cold Out of my mold I could not crowl Just a little bold That's what I needed to be, lord To confront the world No treasure, silver or gold Too young, I wasn't that old To take consideration, And of your love behold The world distorting your peace Your true self I could not uphold Couldn't you have managed to hold Hold onto me through madness and massacre How could I have believed We had no enemies When all I saw was war Our chances were rigged Our chances were not ours to deal Our places were not opportune Our cards were long fortold We held onto the unattainable We fell to the struggle from within We were fighting hard to rebuild What had already failed, Thinking the helpless Could reverse their inevitable fall In the questions, desperation, and pondering No catharsis, no purging, avails All the true revelations are lost Only un-resourceful quiescence stalls
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Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 10:06 PM UTC
Reconnaissance of Failed Love
Bronzed blade, raised in ire, abreast, Foresquare to thy foe, attest, Norseman with thy flowing hair Howling, teeth bare challenge, there! Somnolence now thy time of quiet Quiescence to the moments write Captured, soft, her sweetest smile In rendering thy pain, worthwhile? Wherever whence, thee came to know Beyond high fjord, through iceberg flow, From battle ground of dire plight To reminiscence in the night? Know thy words be justly spent, Thy coiled emotions caste and vent.... Now worn as Talisman by we Who greive this passing hour of thee. [email protected]
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Jul 14, 2025
Jul 14, 2025 at 12:48 AM UTC
Song for Sverre
Exuberant ecstatic rapture Sardonic denigrating quip Joisting up an oaken rafter The cabin of a sailing ship Lucid eloquent recumbence Surreal retrospective grace Endless ocean’s myriad turbulence Infinity would set it’s pace Imbue spontaneous induction Exude efficient transience Exhort the mystic symbiotic construction For the course of our intransigence Litigant ludicrous licentiousness Coquettish audacious impunity Lecherous libidos atrocious impertinence Would pound id’s shore horrendously Derisive subjugated nuance Extol intrinsic unity Nebulous wisps of shaded quiescence With breeze and sky make harmony Predilect effluent effusion Tenacious taubla tapestry Alleviate the torrential confusion Acquire efficience for flights symmetry
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Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
Immunity
after the writings of Joan Mary Fry For each and all. We need silence and stillness. For each for all, that atmosphere of waiting souls; this is not the hush before the storm, when no twig moves no leaf dares to stir. Think of the high noon of summer, Think of the stillness of snow, how heat or lightness everywhere give that sense of abounding life, making a quietness of rapture As mind, as soul, as even the body grows still, sinking deeper and deeper into the life of God, the pettiness, the tangles, the failures of the outer life begin to be seen in their true proportions, and the sense of infilling, uplifting Divine Redeeming Love becomes real. Not quiescence, the soul is alive, yet so still, it hardly knows its own intensity.
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Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 1:46 AM UTC
The Meeting
serenity is a euphoric surrendering to the cerulean sky the green grass swaying with dandelions releasing their soft feathery bristles as tender as the gentle breeze sending them far and wide pillowy clouds suggest ever moving images the kaleidescope of a child's mind taking on different shapes along the sparsely trodden path trees waving leaves in welcoming greeting song birds endlessly composing a captivating melody the air as clean and fresh of purified aroma breathing the deep earthly essence with each sigh attaining tranquil purity thoughts of stilled quiescence and calm embalm me in translucent cocoon.~~lorilynn copyright*lorilynn 2010
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Nov 10, 2010
Nov 10, 2010 at 10:48 PM UTC
SERENITY
Sensations that urge the detection of the greatest restraint and circumspection; the abruptness of spontaneous interruptions sprout volcanic internal eruptions full of relevant abundance Flummoxed by the changes in the script; engaging wonder as suppressed thoughts are written on your face; withholding the ache as ebullient vivacity shakes you awake Carrying a mischievous vividness full of cogent stimulus – fruitful affirmations of levelheaded, sanguine acceptance and unalloyed quiescence Redesigning aspects of existence with unabridged persistence – receiving silent guidance from above by the means of scintillating messages lighting the living flame of love.
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Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
Silent Guidance
Outside my unseeing windows Stringed lamp posts Pierce the deepest night. Lights still dance Along the streets, Reflected in silent pools, Splashed by gentle roars Of pavement rubber Racing the idled road. Beneath my candid room The aircon units gargle Their cold nocturne Of sleep and thought. The sidewalk stays mindful -- Witness to murmured kegs And murdered heels, Its quiescence reverberates The gentle parley Of blaring merchant loons. The boulevard refuses To choke in darkness. My mind will wait until The clamour of morning Shatters this weighted gloom.
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Jul 30, 2011
Jul 30, 2011 at 7:48 PM UTC
Along the Boulevard
One day I was happily sitting and looking around. And With quiescence my heart said To whom you are making dolt.
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Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 11:43 AM UTC
And he caught...
Exuberant ecstatic rapture     Sardonic denigrating quip     Joisting up an oaken rafter     The cabin of a sailing ship     Lucid eloquent recumbence     Surreal retrospective grace     Endless ocean’s myriad turbulence     Infinity would set it’s pace     Imbue spontaneous induction     Exude efficient transience     Exhort the mystic symbiotic construction     For the course of our intransigence     Litigant ludicrous licentiousness     Coquettish audacious impunity     Lecherous libidos atrocious impertinence     Would pound id’s shore horrendously     Derisive subjugated nuance     Extol intrinsic unity     Nebulous wisps of shaded quiescence     With breeze and sky make harmony     Predilect effluent effusion     Tenacious taubla tapestry     Alleviate the torrential confusion     Acquire efficience for flights symmetry
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Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 8:06 PM UTC
Immunity
* Always in an entrapment Humans are not fully evolved Whatever humans do Always caged in a cocoon Unfulfilled and distressed No matter how many births... Drudgery remains It isn't easy Because To let go grudges No 'conditioning' budges How much / many times we struggle How much we pretend to be happy No door opens up to break-free Like a butterfly Lying dormant within cocoon Awaiting illumination to seep in Like dead corpses Scratching the inner skin Peering though translucent shells Breathless and restless Decaying within - With a hope of a "crack" That's the time when The cocoon tightens Colors teases the rues Heart beats the air of freedom The fairies of courages Spreads its wings To soar higher as "dreamZ" To battle and baffle To ciphers and blunder By taking a clue from within Breaking the shackles To embrace the sparkled dust Digesting and leaving behind... A transitional state to ONENESS One need not cry for quiescence Now one awaits the cosmos - Sky, rainbow, stars.... infinite Bidding farewell... The LOVE's butterfly Desires to flutter and fly *
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Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 11:08 PM UTC
Transitional State
this is hell because I say it is. I'm goin to die inside of it now you cant stop me cuz the tourniquets, not your hands upon. mine it is. safe treasure to lie on I stay here in the masking tape taped up against it. holding close till death's quiescence escape is impossible the collapse of body is take in step depth torn from ones ***** creates humans. we cream humans out of our windpipes through the words we hate the words we love and the words we ingest creating years long relationships that **** ourselves and our partners and our health and happiness all for you little miscreants we sound bite death falls upon head bands death holds its hand waist span for creeping death on our limits of bands measure expanding fissure on my backs expanse of nerves they torture true \ every day with every move these kids spill their hate I gave them from the feelings I felt they inherited with every song that I soothed them with I hate this I **** and peel my skin I slip my slime I steal life from every hoove I walk around the animals life I slave a forth from my head I tithe this tax I slurp it all up to invigorate from the death I feel I **** my self. death to the dishonor I have done myself have I grown true humans, ill never let my self, off of the hook that if shoved in my pelt, will I lose all the worth and the building I've dealt, to the structure the skeleton of this tower I've built. till it crumbles, till its stagnant.
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Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 12:57 AM UTC
Watched this about pizza
Exuberant ecstatic rapture     Sardonic denigrating quip     Joisting up an oaken rafter     The cabin of a sailing ship     Lucid eloquent recumbence     Surreal retrospective grace     Endless ocean’s myriad turbulence     Infinity would set it’s pace     Imbue spontaneous induction     Exude efficient transience     Exhort the mystic symbiotic construction     For the course of our intransigence     Litigant ludicrous licentiousness     Coquettish audacious impunity     Lecherous libidos atrocious impertinence     Would pound id’s shore horrendously     Derisive subjugated nuance     Extol intrinsic unity     Nebulous wisps of shaded quiescence     With breeze and sky make harmony     Predilect effluent effusion     Tenacious taubla tapestry     Alleviate the torrential confusion     Acquire efficience for flights symmetry
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Jul 26, 2019
Jul 26, 2019 at 8:02 PM UTC
Immunity
not so distant dogs bay through streets an uneasy wind slaps at leaves and now a wail-whoop of ambulance gloom loops the dying afternoon and even in the home from my room the dinny grin of television and banging doors a dull clang of words and the beating of my blood at small impending dooms. Yet. I am held - for all that - shimmering-still a castle in the eye of storms. Peace is not a white flag. its molten gold enfolds the floundering soul - enthrones it into a whole eternity of untold quiescence.
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Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 8:59 AM UTC
prayers at day's end
Any instance my eyes turn away from you don't conceive I've lost my affection I'm solely focused on things to come as we stare in the same direction Anytime I don't say how my love is don't allow your heartbeat to skip Some things are too grand to reveal as profound words escape my lips Nothing voices louder than our silence vacant phrases, yet souls defined Nothing could inspire my heart to quake more than your eyes looking up into mine Every time we're burdened with distance I embrace my pain of your presence missing Affirmation I've finally found the one no reluctance for our hearts giving I want every tomorrow holding you don't ask what tomorrow may hold We can grey and our bodies wither but "we" forever will never get old Scott Mitchell
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Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 9:09 AM UTC
Subtle Quiescence