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Abigail Madsen Feb 2013
Between stolen kisses
The hits and misses
We create ourselves
this distorted image of what we
deserve
This façade to aid our acceptance
this thing we use to find any remanence
Of self confidence that has been ripped away
leaving our self importance at bay
Our own distortion of inner meaning
unable to see
what
and
who
we deserve
The nerve
Of ourselves saying we don't deserve
the best
and that we deserve everything less
than the most
it's not fair, how
being imperfect
makes you believe you're some how defective
and its not fair
that
when we get caught in a place with dont belong
with someone we don't belong
with
The only possible reasoning being
that
We accept the love we think we deserve
but you deserve the best
So accept it.
Ash Oct 2020
The fox
runs alongside the astronaut,
who looks at a picture frame.
Around the fox’s neck, a white bandana.
There, on the spooky
moon, his only company is the fox colored aluminum.

The aluminum
fur of the fox
blends into the moonscape. The ship is empty aside from them and the spooky
remanence of the rest of the crew. As the lone astronaut
works to return home, his only comfort being the bandana
and the picture frame.

The frame
that holds a photo of a woman, standing before the ship of aluminum.
Tied around her hair, the bandana
which has since been given to the fox.
The memories it brings ever haunting the astronaut
making the moon ever more spooky.

The spooky
feeling is not eased by the frame
as the remains of passed astronauts
are trapped in this aluminum
ship, the lone survivors being the man and the fox.
He keeps his thoughts on the bandana.

Her bandana,
given to him on a dark and spooky
day, which he then gave to the fox
so he may pretend the woman in the frame
isn’t millions of miles away from them. A fox of aluminum
and a lonely astronaut.

The astronaut
chooses to focus on returning to the woman without her bandana.
He works tirelessly to get the aluminum
rocket ship off the spooky
and desolate moon, and back to earth, to see the woman in the frame.
By his side on this barren rock, looking up at him, stands the fox.

The astronaut refuses to let the spooky
atmosphere deter him from his goal of returning the bandana to the woman in the frame,
ever thankful for the company of the aluminum fox.
A sestina made with words randomly given to me by a friend.
It harassed free fall, it was affected by the friction force in the absence of the tefillah, the walls became more taxed and accelerated with gravity that exceeded the acceleration of time, gravity triggered the rest that was in the outside walls and made different kilometers apart, with the free fall at more than 9.8 km per second. Beneath the ground the dimension was made lower than the intake embankment, creating placements in revealing swaps in the solar position, for anyone trying to level the force of fall and its acceleration versus gravity around bodies that were moving accelerated and scattered. The earth constantly hurried its mass to preponderate and go where something or someone could rescue it, the air was inked with an offer in the cases of the imprisoned airs, which from the graves adjoining the valley of Kedron kidnapped its areas of lavender physiognomies to link it to the mantles of the Tallit, which in some cases arose with thousands of souls from their graves, to receive the cushioned rubble between which they were electro-magnetized with the blankets, and the wiring they generated, conceiving that they would gather them in the naive and demiurgical plates, for the holistic retransmission of the tract to Patmos, starting from the Cyclades all the way to the Dodecanese.

The sensitive ex-karst plates of Patmos trembled through the passageways of the Cyclades, which permeated in a ratio of the first reflection in the distance vision that approached between both physical episodes, but the second axis of reflection was made aware in an unknown perspective close to the underwater elevation of the Profitis Ilias, close to the entrance sinkhole, between the variables of the inter plates that were assigned to the reflective tapes of the Beit Hamikdash that mutated to the Megaron Áullos Kósmos. Here the omega will resume a minimum of constant forces, emphasizing the friction that bellowed by the hands of the pro-zealots who had left those sarcophagi in the Kidron Valley, in the average anchor values of the great leaks of the friction with the falling water by millions from the inexorable wind that aided the indivisible objects in the Kidron valley ratio, as a reflection of free fall hitting the friction between the Bern Olives, with torrential rains that were made periodic for an esplanade near Mount Scopus. This seat suffered from the force of friction in the fall of the wall, appreciating the burials that were and will be the reactionary phases of the Hellenistic degree. Objects faded to the state of rest and gravity that cavorted through the valleys, replicating distances more than periods of Elijah in the Judah desert itself and in the Dead Sea. From the depth of the valley, aqueous elements emerged with the proportional speed of the falls of the material and immaterial bodies, outlining the second Newtonian law, as the holy water submerged into the flow of the super-atomized savory, which was reconverted into the same Beit Hamikdash, to materialize in the submerged and hidden effects of the pagan force, hinting at the analogy of the equinoctial of the Dyticá that pushed the wave of the Kaitelka whale, in the constant of speed, tensing the force of the rocks that never stopped moving until his body igneous was quintupled in the fifth dimension beyond the consciousness of those who do not understand immaterial physical abstraction, in fractional microseconds.

The density of the rain filter that had been volumized from the submerged interstices, created the gravity of the horizontal movement that subdued the equation in kinetics that gave the differential in the unresolved expectation of the cessation of movement. Where the amount of reaction is more than what would go to Patmos, disproportionate to the macro pulleys that oscillated in the meridians, speed, and acceleration. Prior to the decoupling of the forces of fall in the already submerged bodies that were counterbalanced to give rise to the volume cords that detached from the largest chamber of the wall, to record the final sequence of wear generated by the reconversion and balance points of their masses, then the starting pedestal accumulates and is reconnected with this phenomenon of the Invisible Eclectic Portal of Patmos, being aware that they would have to enter the cavern, after having ceased their work for this mass retransmission of the reinverted wall to propel the Megaron uprising. Within three months after the Hellenistic Full Moon, the colors of the Tefilah will become mathematical, fascinating the spiritual intensity that inspired Saint John to build the temple near his cave of the Apocalypse on the reef of Patmos. The sanctity will count the astragali in front of the cyclamen for the delicate advances, wearing the blue-green of the quadrinomial that represented geodesy in its points of order and of its evangelist faction. Confusions were overwhelmed not to stop the movements of splendor in the effusions of the storms in sacred prayers in the room, which takes refuge from Kímolos bringing the souls of Helenikká, for the offices that made the trend of Katapausis after the subsequent full moon. Discounting the three months that never elapsed since Vernarth arrived on the Eurydice.


Kaitelka and the judgment of her abode would determine the corpus and the psyche of the irascible necromances of Borker and Leiak, subordinated to Zefian so that the torrential rains on Patmos are perceived by the colder of condensed water of Cassandra that Beit Hamikdash had been bringing with two anthropomorphic shadows that had been supporting him, that of a Cohen, Levita and a Samaritan, they were the guardians that came from Jerusalem to Patmos to assimilate the enthronement spectrum of free fall converted into free ascent were the fourth arrow that spectrum for the first column to be erected. The breath of all of them became more entropic each time that would be concentrated in a certain haze that was released by its titanic whale snout; Rather, I say of her presence that she was raised by some larvae, which came from certain Zeus dresses that he had expelled to free the larvae that were from her immortal garb, looking like bait for those who stalked him with necromancy. . But this time he would be very contemplative for the construction of the Megaron de Vernarth, because amphitheater was a cause of low politics for his Olympic spectrum. The energy or Evegeia, was primed for objects that took forms of papyri covered with invisible enzymes tried from Qumram, but the cause of Mortis revived the larvae making the oblivion of the era that continued after the Mortis of all legions multiplied by the phrases that were sinister from the true matter of physical remanence.
Helleniká Souls
Poetic T Mar 2021
This is mostly based on the true-ish happenings of
Beth Huges was born in the 80s, her parents
called her Lizzy for short well that would explain
a few things. Her upbringing was more in the 70s
then the 80s. Her parents were new-age hippies but
with the chemical abuse of the 80s.

They were vegans, nothing on land was to be sacrificed
for the fulfillment of their needing only organic substitutes.
  They'd eat from the Ocean as that was the well of life
and always giving and in a continuous replenishment cycle.

Not knowing, she was repeatedly dosed with LSD.
to open the spiritual aspects. But Daddy had a bad trip.
            And wore mummies face saying she was
talking through him.

The cops didn't see that way and vented his body with
                           at least nine new breathing holes...
She was still high as daddies blood spayed over her and
she finger painted on the floor.

She'd lived with relatives but this didn't last long as they
were meat-eaters and she had a vast disdain for all who
murdered and disfigured the life of the land.
   Her auntie was a vegan, so realized the pressures.
   But as she got into her older years having episodes.
of repressed trips. Glaring at the walls and painting in
her own blood.
It hit a moment in her twenties when she caught
her auntie giving head to her new boyfriend..

She was disgusted as she heard her call it "the meat,
             distrustful of her auntie and she'd desecrated
the law of her body, after she pleaded no meat.

While her auntie was being contaminated she put
sleeping tablets into their drinks after the *****
inducing acts had finished and she came out of
the room wiping her mouth.

                     "Here guys I made you a drink,

She played it cool reading a book until they
fell unconscious. She was reprehensible that
                   what was being done was right.
Pulling down his joggers she got some
scissors and grabbed it, momentary she put
it in her mouth, it was soft and she felt a sturring
and gagged... with one fatal swipe she cut it off.
throwing this maggot in the fire, Burn filth...
Her auntie lied there silent, her breath deep.

"How could you,

Even though she has momentarily engaged in
                pleasures of the flesh.

She went into the cupboard and found a cleaner,
             the warning on the side said corrosive
wear gloves.

She stroked her aunties hair and then tipped the
entire bottle down her throat to clean the desecration
from her.
All that was heard was a curdling and then froth
expelling from her nostrils and mouth...
She got a cloth and wiped her mouth, even though
doing this had murdered her auntie, she still loved her.
Now she was clean from the manmade contamination.
    Pure once more, the acid mixed with her stomach acid
creating a pungent smell as it was eating through her side.

A pool of blood and partly digested food bubbled
on the floor, it started to eat through the laminate flooring.
At that very moment, she heard screaming incoming on
her kneeled position.
As she turned she saw the half-naked bleeding profusely boyfriend. In his anger, he never saw the pool of corrosive remanence of his departed girlfriend.

Scissors raised and ready for vengeance, he lurched
losing his balance and landed face down in the
bubbling maroon stench.
Lizy scrambled to her feet, ready to run.
Instead, she screamed as he got up and turned around.
The flesh was peeling off, as he grabbed at his now dissolving
features. The shock was too much as she passed out.
A while had passed and as she awoke she went to move
but the scissors were interred in her hair.
Her scalp felt wet, as she touched the area, red liquid coated
shaking hands. She put her fingers in her mouth and tasted,
yes, it was her blood. she pulled at the scissors and they
wouldn't dislodge as they were firmly embedded in the
laminate flooring.

She had no other option but to yank her hair out,
******* that hurt, she had a blad patch where
the hair follicles had pulled away.
Her head spinning, but as she turned around there
he was still, his face no more just white, with patches
of blood his hands around his throat.

She got a hand towel and threw it over his featureless
remanence, and then saw the disemboweled auntie.
If it wasn't for the middle missing dissolved all over the
floor, you'd think she was sleeping.

Lizzy had to think fast, how could she get out of this?
But it was easy, she'd heard shouting and saw her
auntie come out with scissors, soon after her boyfriend
came out blooded, she saw me and told me to hide.
As I watched he grabbed her dragging her to the
cupboard unscrewing a bottle with his mouth,
then pouring it down the struggling auties mouth
at that moment I ran at him pushing him away as her  
auntie convulsing. We struggled but he was too strong.

It was at that moment he grabbed the scissors lifting me up,
he lost his balance and that the last I remember before waking
up with my hair pinned to the floor by the scissors.

The flashing lights were so bright in the darkness as I was huddling it to the waiting ambulance.
Crocodile tears poured from my eyes.
I told my story, it was worthy of an Oscar.
There on the stage, thanking the gullible audience.

As I walked from the courthouse, tears flowing thanking
everyone for their condolences and wishing me well.

I looked in the mirror as I saw my aunties face,
wearing it like my daddy wore mummies.
sprinting at the policeman at the door I got him
in the neck. Shots echoing out into the dark night.

They must have been alerted by the screaming,
can't people just die quietly? I ran into the night.
Not been found yet, but I kept the scissors.

I go after men now, I'm quite pretty for being so
crazy. I offer them ****** favours for drinks,
I always make sure they have a car, that's a must.
My favourite trick is getting them to drive to a secluded
spot offering them head-on their bonnet.
somewhere we will not be disturbed.

It's amazing how gullible men are when they think with
there meat instead of there brain.
I found this awesome pen that's a tasar, telling them
I'm leaving my signature and number, so if they liked it
they knew where to look if they wanted more fun.
Its quite funny the gurgling scream they make when
you zap their ball bags, they crumble like wet paper.

Kind of pathetic really.  Now we alone and there quite,
snip, snip some do take two chops you know.
Then into the woods or the dirt side of the road.
But I learnt from my first time, cut the femoral attire
in the leg, that way they stay down some did come to
but a was driving away by then I heard their
screams and I smiled. Of to the next town now I think
Driving while its dark is better I sell their belongings
in a pawn shop to raise money the dead cant report
their belongings stolen after all. I just tell them there
my ex. They don't really care about where it came from.

I like my new  hobby, at last count I'd snipped fourteen
of them and I still have my auntie with me I wear her
sometimes just to feel close to her.
her pa
Kara Jean May 2016
Lonely is the only emotion I feel, sitting on the counter
Plopped down, flicking guilt
Remanence on paper, I use to heal
I chose to be ill
I'm the unattached ****** desire
Conversation not required
Tormented love, consumed and killed
Around this pole, twisted and unthrilled
Patiently waiting on something
My ******* body feels nothing
Still insanity quenches the thrusting
When will we finally become ***** and musty
I can no longer conceal our secret, smiling
Annoyed with me, I'm done hiding
Tonight I'm not grieving
Deceived, here is your rope of control
I need to find the cover for my gaping hole
Nyx Oct 2017
The way tough butter melts on
a warm sizzling pan
-has nothing
on the tender warmth of
my solid heart after
her soft lips curl across her
beautiful face.
How is it, my love
that you make
my heart melt
and my mind go blank
as if miles don't exist,
and time could never catch us,
I can not wait to be next to you,
and watch your lips
as you watch me sizzle and
drain away into the pulsing cracks
of your heart
where I hope no matter how
hard you try
you can not
scrape
away the remanence of my
love
and my
soft tender words.
Lewis Irwin Jun 2019
As she lays down in a state of bliss,
It's only after the reality hits.
She's harbouring life inside where her demons resides,
She can't afford but she won't abort; she will save a life.

What is life if happiness isn't part of the equation?
How do we validate and justify our questions and frustrations.
Is allowing life saving life? Because in happiness life resides,
She can't afford but she won't abort; she will save a life.

She's now a Mother of some standard,
Equivocally she tries and **** those demons inside her.
Her daughter finds no joy in the mother who's smile lays no happiness,
Her laugh croaked with the remanence of a pied piper.
With no food or knowledge to consume she will surely be laid to doom,
Because her Mother died as the demon who consumed her wore her skin like a prize.

Giving life isn't saving life,
Because happiness is where life resides.
Hannah Mar 2017
I can smell
the soft floral remanence
of blue hyacinths in bloom.
The smell lingers everywhere.
It reminds me of you.
How you always smelled
so sweet,
like you'd just had a bath
with fresh lavender,
and rose petals swimming
all around you,
gathering at your feet.
I miss that smell,
almost as much as I miss you.
It's been a long time
since I've thought about you.
I've pushed you from my mind,
from my scarred up heart.
It's better that way,
keeping those memories
locked up inside me.
It took a long time
to stitch together
the pieces,
after you so carelessly
ripped my heart apart.
I'll always resent you for that.
I'll always love you for it too,
and whenever those hyacinths
are in full bloom
outside my window
I'll think of you,
of how much I loved you,
and for just a moment
I'll feel a touch
of the hyacinth blues.
~ I'll think of you ~
cozyjune Sep 2018
she walks through the door.
she walks through the door.
she walks through the door-
her hair was so big and curly she must've been hiding millions of secrets in it and i wanted to know them all.
she was small but i could tell she could handle herself and all i wanted was to put my hands on her.
she moved past me and laid her hand on my back and i was five years old laying on the sidewalk, it was mid july and all the yards around me were emerald pools. the remanence of lemonade danced on my tongue, that was the last time i could remember being warm.
she touched me and i felt the sun on my face.
she walked through the ******* door and i was warm
James Tuohy Jun 2011
You say your body is a canvas then so is mine.  I'll carve a heart on my chest so then i know it will exist.  The spectrum of the pain is nothing, when loves hurts in more then one way.  And baby you're killing me.  All this **** you play is getting farther and farther away from what you really want to say.  

So breathe deeply and scream.  That our love was never alive, it was just a disgrace of life.  Admit that we both can't be happy, when shallow graves never fill in, they just stay empty.  Yet our cabinets are filled with poisonous memories.  I'll carve a heart on my chest so then i know it will exist after this. The spectrum of the pain is nothing, when loves hurts in more then one way.  And baby you're killing me.

Tortured eyes read across the mirrors of time.  Crumbled thoughts in the trash from the tears i bought.  A scattered remanence of love that i fought for but lost.  Its hard to see myself after this when you payed the ultimate cost.  Now who iam suppose to walk with down that empty lane, when these marks were for your pain.  I don't have a heart without your pain.
There's been nothing to look forward to
The days seem intertwined
My dreams have become diluted
Stuck in the perils of my mind

I'll sleep the day away
Stay wide awake throughout the nights
The darkness hides the pain I'm in
And any remanence of my plight

What's out there lurking in the shadows
With the stars my only light
I stare into the emptiness
Weighing wrong from right

Questioning my role on earth
And which fire to ignite
To set in motion my devotion
And launch my rocket into flight  

I am merely a speck of dust
In the grand scale of our 'verse
Our existence just an afterthought
That mother earths' disbursed

Sitting, waiting, watching days go by
The outcome looming large
An inevitable grave tragedy
As tears fall from loved ones eyes

I chuckle at the thought of legacy
For the future passers by
What a twisted complexity
This fragile thing that we call life.

The hustle and the bustle
The ladders we must climb
To reach the top, the utmost peek
Why even waste the time?

Where is the silver lining?
What mysteries left to find?
What discovery of all discoveries
Can amend this somber paradigm?

Love you say!?
I hasten to agree
How does that explain my disdain
For the person that is me

I, of good heart and soul
And adored by a grand descent
Still have yet to wet my whistle
By way of the clouds above my head

I feel I must confess my passion
To set the worriers at ease
Not for the sake of saying so
Nor for the galleries esteem

But for self and perseverance
The underlining good
So what, pray tell do you say?
It is that of motherhood

The nature of its being
The uniqueness and individuality
Of every single human being

And love, in this pretext
Is a love that I can bare
That of every living thing
In to which nothing can compare

A metamorphosis of thought!
For you and I alike
The yin and yang unearthed
The meaning of life.
I dug a little deep in this poem. With my motivation fleeting, I sought to connect the dots that would explain my purpose on earth. I discovered that balance is the key.
Poetic T Dec 2019
It was void less on the dead tree branch,
or what was once something reaching
for the heavens but now it is rootless.

Digging into the earth, like a tombstone
of remembrance entwined in razor wire
                                                            ­   woes.

It was cur once, now it is cut upon even in
death, every breath of life the world temps
                           it with just cuts deeper.

And the onyx crow, just perches on it.
             silent, it just gazes at the others
neatly put into shallow graves of despair.

They are naked for all to see, for all to gaze upon.
     stripped of decency. Shallow graves tease as though
they wish to flourish, roots are dismembered.


But where the branch fell, where the dismembered
remanence ****** of self horizontal.
           When a tree falls no one hears it...

When the now guillotined life falls,
        it fell upon its executioner..
   In the woods now one hears you fall..

They bleed into the wood, the egg that hadn't
hatched now cracked open, a chick will no longer
             fly high but sit on this deathly stripped void.

Every now and then, when I look out my window,
         I see the field, and a crow with gapping vision.
And a silhouette of someone....

There neck arched and a smile crocked,
                 as if to say this is a coffin above ground..
And there slowly rotting in the earth that took
                                       them all...

When a tree falls, when the leaves are stripped bare,
             only the bones show, and it like those before
are just images of what fell when they decendedly silenlty.
fluorescent Apr 2018
I woke up this morning
maybe this will be the day
I thought
you'll say the words
that finally **** me

they'll swallow me whole
rip out my insides
tear my body to pieces
burn any remanence of my existence

but nothing happened
and I got busy

so maybe ill just await death until tomorrow
The Matzoh, was tripled in Vernarth's imagination in the first chalice of Elijah, which was expected for this mass balance in the Eunomia and in Euphrosuné, for whom there were few steps in the applicability of the kingdom and the underlying legislation of the fourth chalice of Elías, who was already inaugurating the end of all commemoration. They would have the accommodation relative to San Pablo and San Juan to join and to stage the arrival that was expected of Elías by his spiritual presence attending as an ekklesia in the assembly of the family that was preparing to dine, they will open the house in the Fourth Arrow of Zefian for domesticity and conversion of the magnanimous visit of the Hexagonal Birthright to Judah, without the yeast ferment to cross Zefian's sword in the halo of remanence that originated behind the wick of the Menorah that Vernarth held in his hands, thus When lifting it and tilting it horizontally, Saint Paul made it the Notós and the Dyticá, making the gospel a sacrosanct concoction in a double chalice crossed with the Matzoh bread in the hand of Saint John, with the first-grade olive thread that had to teach it to the spirit of the community, next to the kályx inside a Kratera, that welcomed them on the grail greater sprinkler for a great spiritual climate. They all grappled with the stillness for those who welcome them in a silence that was from another world, where Saint Paul and Elijah in their first ovation applauded Vernarth's goodwill for having brought Saint John to Judah with them, specifying the return of their forced diaspora, which meant a great breath of prostration from the letter of the Romans, for a plot against whoever converges in a community inside and outside from the site that saw the divine light, with the very mass of light hanging over the ribs of who can establish his sovereignty, with frugal needy publics that came from Corinth. Elijah was spiritually in the Cenacle, and he was in the fourth cup of the full moon that burned in the styles that hung from the highest multidimensional reasoning before a prophet, who was still fleeing sensibly from King Ahab pursuing him towards his state of humiliation, where he could not compensate himself from a concentrated oak table, and in the Mataki that made a universal meeting enabled with the twelve guards of Seleuco, who attended by means of a conditioned dreamlike weakening, and by the worship of pious exercise that would soon take him in the flesh and in wine, from his own needy who were once his chains. Ritual gestures came from their faces when they saw the kind of fidelity when they felt that they could live with their hands with roasted and immolated meat, with pieces of matzoh that they liturgized similar to Pesach. The center of the sacred synagogue fire was of sacramental flow in the eclectic portal that came from Procorus. The schizophrenic of the pantheon of union buffoons went with Euphrosuné or Eufrésine, who were instantiated among the laments and revelry for the Maenads, who shone in the flow of their sadness, to the full of their joy with cyclamen that was sustained in the prosopon worn by both goddesses with the maskein stew of Vernarth and Euphrésine, to dignify their presence before the Hexagonal birthright. Thus, the Maenads retreated beyond the third sacred fire, close to the base of the low burps of Dionysus who were scalding with Euphrosuné, in delusions to make her Maenad.

Saint Paul says: “From the cistern of Siloe the Torah was reinterpreted, the blind could not see and enter the turbulent waters of the lower cistern, similar to those of the Hasmonean. He also could not enter the synagogal, he said that he could not enter because they left him outside because he was handicapped and could not walk freely. The Mashiach told him to get up and take his belongings. The nonagenarian got up and walked to his house, just as the Master indicated. On the way he met some followers of Shammai, telling him that he could not carry heavy things on the day of Shabbat. Subsequent to this beneficial event, the Mashiach was enthroned due to this decision before the Sanhedrin, because he mentioned to them that he got up and walked, thus Yeshua interpreted the Torah in his life and property. From that moment on, the 18 clauses for converting Gentile pagans to proselytes were optimized, modifying only two, constituted by Yeshua. The school of Hillel was systematized under his erudition with the Pharisees since its foundation, making this the rabbinical school that would prevail from now on, due to the magnificence and exegesis of the Mashiach. "

In this way Shammai, with his rigidity of protocol, was questioned by his interpretation, making Hillel's more human and of personal piety with Faith-reason. They get up from this micro-journey of reminiscence, and Vernarth walks with Saint Paul and Saint John, Vernarth takes Artemis's bow, takes Zefian's fourth arrow that he brought from the Duoverse, then takes the bow and propels the arrow to where the Vóreios del Aftó, to transfer the bronze tip of Hillel towards that direction, distancing it towards the arrival of the religious objective, and creating the transferred hand of Vernarth in that of Hillel, to channel at the exact point of arrival where the Megaron will begin to be erected. Shammai, together with the minority of the voices, was skewed in the fourth arrow that was propelled in the objective of the Torah, "Bow and Arrow", touching the theology of the house of Beit Hillel, and demarcating with systemic devotion and mercy the Eruv, who was present with Hillel, making a dramatic life, the traumatic gloss of who one day carried a tree on his shoulders to a dark and unburied altar since the equinoctial of Aphtho; carrying the log, even if it had been on Shabbat, which brought Kaitelka as the last guest with Borker, when the last mogote of the whirlwind of the Profitis Ilias wind tunnel was almost closed, bringing this ballenid heavy as a cross.
Unclean Matzoh
Lexie Jun 2016
after all this time
where is my heart
all the little pieces
left in shatters behind
to my lovers
and to my tears
I gave each of you a piece
some you cherished
others thrown away
so in landfills
and on mantles
I find my remanence
and as I pass
as a ghost
through my past
I see in the shards
of the memories we had
and I cry in wisps
until I am blown apart
Poetic T Feb 2019
When words weren't enough
              to show how much
                              I loved you.

I gave you a box,
           containing past loves..

And when you touched them.

                          They where still warm,
then you knew that my love was true..


As I wouldn't be swayed by the past,
                 knowing you held the
remanence in your hands.

They where still warm,
           but all that mattered

                             was that there was no
going back after this show of affection...
MacKenzie Warren Jun 2018
i am not the person you left behind anymore
i have new favorite songs, new bad habits, a new favorite color
my hair is different, my heart is different, my soul is different
the scars on my heart are now stars
i am shining brighter than ever
the freckles covering my skin are a map of my future and my past
i am lighter than ever
my smile tells stories of the places i've been
i am happier than ever
i'm not the person you left behind anymore
remanence of the past still lingers
but there is no one left here to miss
Poetic T Feb 2020
The Christmas tree is vacant of what
make it jolly, bauballs  hang in remanence
                      with tarnished broken gleam.
Disused needles litter the floor,
  careful where you tread take care.  

The cat hangs loosely paper thin flesh
             gaunt from the crimson tinsel
throttled around its physique...

The Turkey on the table a corpse of
                            happier times..

Now a prison of destitute flesh
   like paper unwrote upon..
              But it says everything.

Presents litter the floor wrapped in
regrets.. all open, only the bones of
                   lost promises lay at the bottom.

Christmas time is only 364 days away,
   And this will all be here,

so will we,
                                 no one has found us yet..
lover Mar 2019
Me
I am not the names you call me, my hands shake with anxiety and my mind overthinks rapidly. Sitting by the windowsill, head in the clouds, I pray for an everlasting love - one higher than the ground. Tell me why would you prey on the weakest of them all? Mr I need space but I love you. Like vultures, they swooped down and lifted me up just to drop me. I don't want to hang anywhere or see anyone or live in despair but my heart is colder than ice these days and blood ties are ones who warm it up. My coffee keeps going cold, the remanence of the mess I make wherever I seem to go. Mistreated and discriminated against like the best of them, I know I'll get through this. The darkness hasn't followed me in a while now and all I see is bright lights and a happy future. For everyone. Miss bright side, missus nobody and missus let me figure this one out on my own sort of rebellion. They say karma's a '*****' but I've had my face on for weeks and maybe that's just me.
MangoMan Aug 2018
I wear my heart on my sleeve.
Emotions dripping past my knees
Into the remanence of the walls which you broke down.
Treading carefully as not to open the soul, medically linked to my sleeve.
All in the hopes, to be able to shout and proclaim my deep and true emotions.

And you're just sat there.
Smiling.
At your phone.
what's on the phone ?
first/2 of the "low fidelity series"
Rachel Mar 2020
Stratospheres of energy fields are aflame
Sorted pieces of events for someone to blame
Waking up all over again to do it the same
Simulating life, liberty and remanence of fame

Sanctity and civility marked by uniformity
Simplicity cut short by fractions of falsifiability
Circumvent the thick density of a sovereign reality
Dismissing duality to enter the ring of the trinity

Obnoxious volition lending toward a noxious trend
Lying down the self-hood, there is nothing to defend
The dark or the light, of which shall we contend
Drifting as the conscious observer, to all else, suspend
Joseph Peterman Mar 2020
you’re worth it in my eyes
your hearts golden
your eyes
silky brown
when they open
your hand caresses mine
sending shivers down my spine
i’m broken
from the touch
of your addictive love
you dive into my eyes
reminding you of oceans
you dive into my mind
and we become one
for seconds
i control what you see in me
from conversations
clouding mentality
i make a way to stay awake
and kiss your lips
not heartbroken
i run away
i get my wish
to have another few nights like this
i know it isn’t permanent
but it’s mine to take
and remanence
just wanted to tell you
that i like you from afar
and when you turn your back
i slide into the dark
I saw a little bee caught in a can

It must of gotten stuck after feeding off of the remanence of a soft drink

“little bee, oh little bee we all get stuck sometimes”

I ran into the kitchen grabbed a knife and used it to poke a hole through the aluminum and then used a pair of scissors to cut open the can

“Little bee, we all deserve to be free”

Once I opened the soda can it did not fly out;  instead the little bee stayed, and I let it be.

I came back an hour later curious as could be and the little be had buzzed away at its own time with its own wings and at its desired speed.

— The End —