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"resplendence" poems
Outside, the snow is serenely falling its illuminated resplendence vying with that of the full moon suspended in the silent night sky. Inside, it is just as silent the only sounds the occasional spark and crackle of the logs in the fireplace. And two hearts harmoniously beating. Wisps of smoke coyly rise from the sandalwood incense gracefully whirling in the air like dervishes, the room redolent with the fragrance of serenity As I repose on the couch, your head upon my lap, you hold one hand against your rhythmically beating heart; while with the other I absently play with your hair. There are no thoughts, only heart thinking. There is no speech, only heart speaking. There are no words, only heart spilling. ~ You slowly rise from my lap and look through my eyes and into my soul. When I come to speak, you gently place a loving finger against my lips, whispering “shhh“ Time revolves all around us, yet within us — stillness; the silence palpable. Our souls become one with the other, with the tranquility of the night, with the gently falling snow. Our breathing falls in sync to a rhythm known only to the cosmos. At the end of our inhales, there you are. there I am. And then you speak.. three words.. Three words that contain the universe within them: “This is bliss“
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Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 9:44 AM UTC
Inaudible Seduction
a cerebral grasping of existence’s resplendence is insufficient tenuously treading bereavement’s tide i cradle life twinkling moments spent on this planet are hallowed time i walk in quiet reverence as tears flow at innocuous occurrences god’s face aglow in each instance perspective revived a bumblebee drifting gently settles evoking awe i stand pensive aforetime unaware in cathedrals we stand eyes newly uncovered awakened discover celestial dimensions people replete with infinite spirit are all that surround my senses abruptly adjusting their focus ‘tis an earthly angelic realm ©2016janetaylor
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May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 6:42 AM UTC
i walk in quiet reverence
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
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Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 7:24 AM UTC
Play
Myself caught in the heatwave sunlight, brown eyes furrowed in the sun, scarf loose on my neck/ the transcendental Denpasar morning-birds are playing their melodies in my head still, three years post-Indonesia.         All of my soul to India now,         sky the pink of painted elephants         on Jaipur dawning,         my afterlife was somewhere here         perhaps two generations ago, chances are.                Vijay Raghav Rao and Alla Rakha                playing the Tabla/via earphones/treading the                Funary Box City (Kashi) future Spring                hands held together keeping calm pace.                Looking about, my twenty-two year old face catches humid wind S I L V E R S H O P tattered bike leaning on the gated guest house entrance      PERENNIAL AZURE SHIVA SITS CROSS LEGGED/      COBRA NECKLACE IMITIATONS ON THE GODDESS THROAT/      MEDITATING SHIVA/ dulled from years and corrosion. Brahmin center of the market street flapping it's tail, sweat beads from my forehead bleeding to oily pavement. At last the months have come for the river Ganges, April penumbra/savage thunderclap while school children uplifting the heart                  AND MIND are ROARING in their laughter the CONTINENTAL DISCORD OF JOY sleeping with their eyes open while others are too tired for the Earth. Sidney Bechet floating swan songs during the black hour cremations/ “Bechet Creole Blues” CATERWAUL IN THAT              VOID THE METAMORPHOSIS OF DEATH/ LUNACY OF LIFE                      (I've arrived at the simultaneous crossroads                                                         of both) searing flesh in open air pyramids/ Manikarnika Ghat, Asia  F           L          O          W           S through dreams like inevitable prophecy and as ash blends with stars the CITY seems fulfilled and mystifying in it's                       (((((RESPLENDENCE)))))
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Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
Self-Made Prophecies (Of Varanasi)
Myself caught in the heatwave sunlight, brown eyes furrowed in the sun, scarf loose on my neck/ the transcendental Denpasar morning-birds are playing their melodies in my head still, three years post-Indonesia.         All of my soul to India now,         sky the pink of painted elephants         on Jaipur dawning,         my afterlife was somewhere here         perhaps two generations ago, chances are.                Vijay Raghav Rao and Alla Rakha                playing the Tabla/via earphones/treading the                Funary Box City (Kashi) future Spring                hands held together keeping calm pace.                Looking about, my twenty-two year old face catches humid wind S I L V E R S H O P tattered bike leaning on the gated guest house entrance      PERENNIAL AZURE SHIVA SITS CROSS LEGGED/      COBRA NECKLACE IMITIATONS ON THE GODDESS THROAT/      MEDITATING SHIVA/ dulled from years and corrosion. Brahmin center of the market street flapping it's tail, sweat beads from my forehead bleeding to oily pavement. At last the months have come for the river Ganges, April penumbra/savage thunderclap while school children uplifting the heart                  AND MIND are ROARING in their laughter the CONTINENTAL DISCORD OF JOY sleeping with their eyes open while others are too tired for the Earth. Sidney Bechet floating swan songs during the black hour cremations/ “Bechet Creole Blues” CATERWAUL IN THAT              VOID THE METAMORPHOSIS OF DEATH/ LUNACY OF LIFE                      (I've arrived at the simultaneous crossroads                                                         of both) searing flesh in open air pyramids/ Manikarnika Ghat, Asia  F           L          O          W           S through dreams like inevitable prophecy and as ash blends with stars the CITY seems fulfilled and mystifying in it's                       (((((RESPLENDENCE)))))
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65
***Darkest days of black Turn brightest shades of sunlight Your smile births my own***
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Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
Reflected in Your Resplendence (Valentine's Challenge 4)
Not against the peaks of protest, these aurulent banners and jasperated jaspe so so jargoon! It's like I was suddenly alive, beat-stretched out of winter neige and into the pancosmic blisses of bright and ebullient spring, plugged with an agromania to abide this new formidable friend in the aeviternal beauty of she and I togetherness. Never to spill a morsel of a minute away from us again, upon the newly conjured spirits unto us both. To be amidst a cynosure of such affiation, to be in the temperate or tropical gardens whispering about our mutual love for flowers nad lists. This that precedes us, bright colliding auras in this newfound numinous kindling of us two. Watching it, making it happen- it unfolding before me made me naseaus with excitement, dithering what our next move out to be. I just wanted to kiss her face, her cheeks, put our hands together so quickly, just to let our amorous fug fill the room with silver albuminious smoke from our breaths. Miles below this, round the Earth to other places, there are the fixtures of bright and corybantic life commoved by other nations and other poised people of the light, that I should not be idle in my desires to usher myself into this grand and briguing introduction. So she said, we will play the question game, the inquiry game, we will state the mark, draw upon deep and fantastical recall, bring from our minds the most immense truths and share them, no matter now feral, or caustic, or melancholy- they will be shared until we explode with each other, our intrigues wrapped in our perfervid and amatory excitedness for one another. Too vast with wonder to be afraid of- am I such a fiend for such resplendence. That we could be vitrified in eternity in a veil of fulgurite. So at this nightfall, this acronychal of bloviating bliss, to write and wonder, incessantly in the finest of provincial matters to settle this garden where Thetis lives to be of her, two philocalists in verdant pasture, heaped with matters of the pen and the palm, in the droves of this beautiful advesperating eve- where first I wrote to you, and then I wrote you back.
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:15 AM UTC
The Garden
Not against the peaks of protest, these aurulent banners and jasperated jaspe so so jargoon! It's like I was suddenly alive, beat-stretched out of winter neige and into the pancosmic blisses of bright and ebullient spring, plugged with an agromania to abide this new formidable friend in the aeviternal beauty of she and I togetherness. Never to spill a morsel of a minute away from us again, upon the newly conjured spirits unto us both. To be amidst a cynosure of such affiation, to be in the temperate or tropical gardens whispering about our mutual love for flowers nad lists. This that precedes us, bright colliding auras in this newfound numinous kindling of us two. Watching it, making it happen- it unfolding before me made me naseaus with excitement, dithering what our next move out to be. I just wanted to kiss her face, her cheeks, put our hands together so quickly, just to let our amorous fug fill the room with silver albuminious smoke from our breaths. Miles below this, round the Earth to other places, there are the fixtures of bright and corybantic life commoved by other nations and other poised people of the light, that I should not be idle in my desires to usher myself into this grand and briguing introduction. So she said, we will play the question game, the inquiry game, we will state the mark, draw upon deep and fantastical recall, bring from our minds the most immense truths and share them, no matter now feral, or caustic, or melancholy- they will be shared until we explode with each other, our intrigues wrapped in our perfervid and amatory excitedness for one another. Too vast with wonder to be afraid of- am I such a fiend for such resplendence. That we could be vitrified in eternity in a veil of fulgurite. So at this nightfall, this acronychal of bloviating bliss, to write and wonder, incessantly in the finest of provincial matters to settle this garden where Thetis lives to be of her, two philocalists in verdant pasture, heaped with matters of the pen and the palm, in the droves of this beautiful advesperating eve- where first I wrote to you, and then I wrote you back.
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1
Breathing in your smoke is like heaven to me, Clearing out my lungs of such anxiety. Your crutch and your dependence, An endearing call of resplendence, I think I loved you. You make me nervous. To the point where my brain stops, And my mouth keeps running Without any indication of where the finish line is. Where I begin to speak too fast and too quick To know what I’ve said, and quite possibly For you to even follow each word that Pours out. Yet Your heart was longing for another, You and I were not meant to be lovers, And We were not made for each other. Oh, how sad times swept away the positive possibilities and the “what if?” worries, I thought I could only hate the month of August, It seems I now despise of July. Stress melted away within my tears as I wept, Sadness left the residue of itself on my pillow where I slept. The sun bleeding through my curtains closed, And yet my room turns an ill ridden shade of yellow. I thought the outcome would leave me with a feeling of euphoria Instead I look to my mirrored self, reflecting a state of body dysmorphia I do not like the way that I look, Comparing myself to her and your feelings I mistook. Straighter teeth and an older complexion, While I hide away, she only craves the attention. You only knew her for a day and you still went away, With her on holiday to a place so far, I can’t stay In this state of mind any longer. Seeing her be the lighter to your cigarette; The founding letters to the jumbled spaces in your alphabet. I see I am only the ash that falls to the ground, I am not within those letters which you finally found.
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Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 6:25 AM UTC
My Dearest, We Were Not To Be.
Breathing in your smoke is like heaven to me, Clearing out my lungs of such anxiety. Your crutch and your dependence, An endearing call of resplendence, I think I loved you. You make me nervous. To the point where my brain stops, And my mouth keeps running Without any indication of where the finish line is. Where I begin to speak too fast and too quick To know what I’ve said, and quite possibly For you to even follow each word that Pours out. Yet Your heart was longing for another, You and I were not meant to be lovers, And We were not made for each other. Oh, how sad times swept away the positive possibilities and the “what if?” worries, I thought I could only hate the month of August, It seems I now despise of July. Stress melted away within my tears as I wept, Sadness left the residue of itself on my pillow where I slept. The sun bleeding through my curtains closed, And yet my room turns an ill ridden shade of yellow. I thought the outcome would leave me with a feeling of euphoria Instead I look to my mirrored self, reflecting a state of body dysmorphia I do not like the way that I look, Comparing myself to her and your feelings I mistook. Straighter teeth and an older complexion, While I hide away, she only craves the attention. You only knew her for a day and you still went away, With her on holiday to a place so far, I can’t stay In this state of mind any longer. Seeing her be the lighter to your cigarette; The founding letters to the jumbled spaces in your alphabet. I see I am only the ash that falls to the ground, I am not within those letters which you finally found.
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37
come, come with me on this backward path of shattered mirrors and sidewalk cracks walk, walk with me and listen to the sounds of the wondering birds and things the wind found dance, dance with me at a bashment of bashful bows wild twists, sylph-like twirls, and elegant falls lay, lay with me in a passage of dreamt things. i will place my heart in your palm and try, try to breathe breathe, breathe with me can you not let me go? melt away the malarkey with silence and cure the angry thoughts with “i don’t know” speak, speak with me confabulate, but don’t ask what i feel for i’d be reticent, or worse, pre-occupied from thoughts by what’s real meet, meet with me can you find me halfway in a field of resplendence at the end of the day? run, run with me get you wild (like untamed flowers) make you leave (he’s a forest fire) fall, fall with me Wonderland doesn’t hurt if there’s two when the Queen of Hearts sees ours she won’t even conceptualize what to do sink, sink with me when i’m drifting, drowning, and there’s nothing left but promise me you’d swim to shore if it was between loss and loss of breath leave, leave with me and shall the world pull you away in my heart, I’ll keep the pieces of the promise that you would stay scream, scream with me tell the air and the dirt and the weeds what is dry, what is broken, what is hurt what you need hold on, hold on with me to memories and tales of the trees of climbing limbs and freedom in little things stay, stay with me in this bleeding, beating, of hearts don’t get too close, but don’t go too far trust, trust with me though it's complicated and whims take the garden signs and try to repaint them pray, pray with me see, the petals scattered to the breeze, are not a concise coincidence but the story of an averred belief grow, grow with me i hope that love will show us how it starts as a seed, then a bud then a vow dream, dream with me of crepuscular magic and roses in June droplets are constellations and irises the moon feel, feel with me in your embrace i seek shelter hands like daisies in my hair feet intertwined, we're ivy, but better wonder, here with me we don’t know what we’ll find but if you keep me safe, dear one, i’ll keep you wild.
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Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC
wildflowers (it’s a poem, don’t be scared)
come, come with me on this backward path of shattered mirrors and sidewalk cracks walk, walk with me and listen to the sounds of the wondering birds and things the wind found dance, dance with me at a bashment of bashful bows wild twists, sylph-like twirls, and elegant falls lay, lay with me in a passage of dreamt things. i will place my heart in your palm and try, try to breathe breathe, breathe with me can you not let me go? melt away the malarkey with silence and cure the angry thoughts with “i don’t know” speak, speak with me confabulate, but don’t ask what i feel for i’d be reticent, or worse, pre-occupied from thoughts by what’s real meet, meet with me can you find me halfway in a field of resplendence at the end of the day? run, run with me get you wild (like untamed flowers) make you leave (he’s a forest fire) fall, fall with me Wonderland doesn’t hurt if there’s two when the Queen of Hearts sees ours she won’t even conceptualize what to do sink, sink with me when i’m drifting, drowning, and there’s nothing left but promise me you’d swim to shore if it was between loss and loss of breath leave, leave with me and shall the world pull you away in my heart, I’ll keep the pieces of the promise that you would stay scream, scream with me tell the air and the dirt and the weeds what is dry, what is broken, what is hurt what you need hold on, hold on with me to memories and tales of the trees of climbing limbs and freedom in little things stay, stay with me in this bleeding, beating, of hearts don’t get too close, but don’t go too far trust, trust with me though it's complicated and whims take the garden signs and try to repaint them pray, pray with me see, the petals scattered to the breeze, are not a concise coincidence but the story of an averred belief grow, grow with me i hope that love will show us how it starts as a seed, then a bud then a vow dream, dream with me of crepuscular magic and roses in June droplets are constellations and irises the moon feel, feel with me in your embrace i seek shelter hands like daisies in my hair feet intertwined, we're ivy, but better wonder, here with me we don’t know what we’ll find but if you keep me safe, dear one, i’ll keep you wild.
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80
Gliding through this timeless labyrinth My sight can't pierce so thick a mist. Alone in my vessel, just drifting clumsily... Anxiety wrung raw in these cold, clammy fists. All is quiet... save for the faint sloshing against my tired hull. I quietened my breath... Such peace exists now in my vessel. Slapping gently against my side, invisible ripples came to lull. I cannot see what lays ahead... I do not know of my ultimate destination... I am alone in my vessel... Drifting along this watery bed. Awaiting nothing... but elusive answers to pointless questions. I cannot fathom what lies above the canopy that shields me. I'd imagine the stars... Twinkling in codes, whispering the secrets of the universe. Unheard to those who will not see. I'd imagine the ripe new moon... Beaming down ostentatiously. Bestowing light upon those who'd croon... Those who'd shamelessly bask in her majesty. But many... Just remain in the darkness. Submitting to the will of the currents, getting lost in the odd calmness... And it's ambiguous resplendence. Looking around I realise that I'm now not alone... There are many vessels... Quiet silhouettes navigating boats of their own. We all bear the same flag but our own demons we wrestle. Overwhelming relief... To see others by my side. I am now alone with so many others... In this lonesome boatride.
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May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 11:23 AM UTC
Lonesome Boatride
I feel such a joyless and reckless, unbridled Despair of some incessant boredom time trial So much of it placed in my hands to control And to bend to my will, but I just do not know What to do with it all, but imagine a place Where again reunited within her embrace It would all have been worth it, to flee undeserving Of her concerns, left to my morbid devices observing The rest of its turning Without her nearby Until in her resplendence She sets in the sky
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Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC
Orphan Sun Child
Acquiesce here my love Ameliorate my heart The assemblage of circumstance provides dulcet ebullience An efflorescent dalliance conflated into cathartic becoming My bucolic bungalow made upon your callipygous A young Life’s denouement Your evocative elixir fetching An erstwhile emollient embrocation Your eloquent fingers find their way to frisson My felicitous chatoyant gambols in glamor like a halcyon incipient made ineffable by the look of the ingénue The labyrinthine inglenook lagoon leisurely lithe The murmurous daffodils wink at the insouciance of your beauty A panoply panacea, the half shadow complete as an epiphany Quintessential to feminine riparian resplendence Your mellifluous voice, an opulent offing, the sumptuous summery soliloquy of an angel Cools my soul like the smell of earth after rain Your propinquity ripples the scintilla of my spirit Your surreptitious smile like a zephyr quietly whispers Its redolent seraglio sempiternal in my thoughts As skyward gazes like saccharine gossamer lilt with the knowledge of our raveling juxtaposition a masterful pastiche, the cynosure of divine revelation
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Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
Beautiful Words
*sailing on the blue-sea sailing unknown-beauty*.. 1. the seas laugh in raucous-hacks as the waves cough up the corpses of my dreams at my feet, they come in from the swell of tides seeming no more than                     spongy sea-weed with sun-skin points                     bloated fish who didn't make it                     swollen seals with child and the blue-boy on the whale's back confident-smiles draped upon his demeanour like a well-worn cloak of old-comfort soft and velvety secrets hide inside the folds of his true-age and pure-soul nobody would believe              how many trips he had to make to get to this shore              how many deaths he had to live through to understand the purpose              how many tears he saw shedding of nature's total-patience              how many of so much.. 2. on the back of a whale he traverses the width of seas                       the span of lands                       the points of stars                       the truth of man and he grieves the piteous-souls whose backs break so hard on the interminable-wheel of penitence turning and grinding                       grinding                       grinding.. always bent upon that gauntlet-grind if they but knew how futile the turn.. carrying loads of mercy and goodness only to see it seep out wounds ere journey's end 3. cruel deified-laughter exists not at man's readiness to crucify hope with such four-square certainty that redemption lies in suffering.. oh no.. 4. faint sounds of laughter on a broad-coast whose sands give way to shy-dossiers of nature's confidence in the evening sun secrets that I neglected to see.. first time round have I failed myself.. ? (but not again) when awareness taps one on the shoulder, is it not utter-folly to turn one's back on resplendence that all the leaves and seas are willing to share? *true-beauty lies in covert-blossoms and opened-eyes and saying.. yes when the sun-breeze dawns* S T - sunnyday, 24 Nov 2013
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Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
on the whale's back
*sailing on the blue-sea sailing unknown-beauty*.. 1. the seas laugh in raucous-hacks as the waves cough up the corpses of my dreams at my feet, they come in from the swell of tides seeming no more than                     spongy sea-weed with sun-skin points                     bloated fish who didn't make it                     swollen seals with child and the blue-boy on the whale's back confident-smiles draped upon his demeanour like a well-worn cloak of old-comfort soft and velvety secrets hide inside the folds of his true-age and pure-soul nobody would believe              how many trips he had to make to get to this shore              how many deaths he had to live through to understand the purpose              how many tears he saw shedding of nature's total-patience              how many of so much.. 2. on the back of a whale he traverses the width of seas                       the span of lands                       the points of stars                       the truth of man and he grieves the piteous-souls whose backs break so hard on the interminable-wheel of penitence turning and grinding                       grinding                       grinding.. always bent upon that gauntlet-grind if they but knew how futile the turn.. carrying loads of mercy and goodness only to see it seep out wounds ere journey's end 3. cruel deified-laughter exists not at man's readiness to crucify hope with such four-square certainty that redemption lies in suffering.. oh no.. 4. faint sounds of laughter on a broad-coast whose sands give way to shy-dossiers of nature's confidence in the evening sun secrets that I neglected to see.. first time round have I failed myself.. ? (but not again) when awareness taps one on the shoulder, is it not utter-folly to turn one's back on resplendence that all the leaves and seas are willing to share? *true-beauty lies in covert-blossoms and opened-eyes and saying.. yes when the sun-breeze dawns* S T - sunnyday, 24 Nov 2013
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62
I have yet to manifest all I am, Like the prolonged discovery Of a well known secret. Here's a free grand tour Around here special guest, I would very much like it If you stuck to my side Like a sidekick. I, the heroic tour guide Of so many surreal wonders, And darling oh my-- The setting sun sat beside Two bottomless candles whistling. Before you knew it, Their identities were indistinguishable, In their fervid resplendence. Frank motives are held back, Control is so fallibly crass. What would happen if the Suppressor were to collapse? We would expand, Like we toiled for. Originally written 2/27/11 Revised 10/19/14 (c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
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Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 6:49 PM UTC
Blundering Harmony
I want to paint this on your skin, what prevents your spirit from trembling. What makes your flavor fluctuate, Is there something special I can serve you. I came to you on two firm legs, smoothed the covers, and lifted you from that bed. You came with full breaths Palefire, and unblended acceptance. My frown will not speak of you, but your pride steals the covers. With a hurricane in your chest , and a sadness that rips me to death. I just realized my folly, five seconds after Touching my finger to a false heart. Took your polished please, without giving a thank you. Brilliant resplendence of your redolent virtue. Arms clenched, a wool sweater, bitter. Leisurely cassette tapes, guide down to the truth. The airy pleasures I have grasped at the heights Match not the singular joy, in the cup of coffee in the garden Of shredded roses, and bone carvings. Favoritism, lies in the past, and it won't change. What has been done, trumps what shall be done. You won already. All I ask, is you guide me. My hands and wrists, like leaders, Gently wrapped around your skull, So I can cradle that delicately invincible brain, Mending skin and hair with perfection. And this? This I will carve into the table that you took away from loving me. My love for you mirrors your footprints, into the infinity of oblivion. .
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Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 7:20 AM UTC
Oblivion
Everyone was somewhere else after 3AM and the world seemed to fall into a fascinating silence I was alone with my mind There was nothing and no one that could interrupt the journey of my thoughts I could feel the thin, gentle breeze flutter playfully along the back of my neck The sounds of creaking floorboards and rustling leaves dominated My mind was clearer after 3AM Although I was drunk with fatigue My mind and thoughts were intact I could feel and hear the universe working at 3AM Even though I could not see it at all It had made me realize how beautiful the world truly was after 3AM But its raw resplendence was only evident beneath the bustle of the crowds and the panic in the streets And that was only after 3AM k.m.
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Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 12:18 PM UTC
After 3AM
Curtains up NOW OWN ~IT~ AS IF   you're the King    of the whole     **** stage   when you're really   just another player acting out for those cheap seats you survey Where else **** HERE* would THEY get to see such a [defamation] -free play?" (laughing) **"Best you throw some sweets**. Indulge them ...**I'd say! ...I'd say!"** The Evil Queen  smirks & a knife glints in her hand Is she creeping up Behind You? (or... does she need a real man?) Ahhhh!!     you see... she's exhausted A-LADD-IN & she knows where to find you.. (evil laughter) Ohhhh! It's just as well you're in costume *...now  remember your lines* "Don't props (& illusions) make a jolly good night!" and baby, WOW! you look Oh! Soooo cute in those tights!                                   and with a sweep of the stage, the smirking Queen exits >               right This stage is all yours now So Buttons...    take a bow (us Brits love an underdog in a fight) ... Make your bow deep ~with a flourish of resplendence~ that captures their hearts try more than That wiggle -and a lot more- than one dance!                        To do it well...                                                                         get a catchphrase (which we'll ALL lurvey darlink from the start) Believe me, is good Always is     another... try the one     you've used in      rehearsals with the   Stepsisters - all dragged up- looking L    O              V      U           E            G                L       L                                                        Y              (like their mother)                                                                                            cough                                                                                  **** it..                                Everyone chokes                                on the dry ice that swirls!                      The audience ponders.... WHO's the boys ? THAT's... a... girl ?!                                 &                       in                  the                low              glow                they'll see           Cinders singing of loves' sweet melody,   those s l o w shoe shuffles             softly sliding across their                                                      t                                                    r                                                          a                                                                 p                                                                                            door hearts   Laughing & crying along through each emotion of the tattered   sweet princess, who               simply hasn't had                              a Prince in her...                     winks                            sights                                                (YET!)           then   **Act II ends with a Flash! & a Bang!**   They all lived   ever after...        Cinders' happy? THE END
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Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 5:20 AM UTC
*exit stage left for dramas... ...and right for scenes* (Spoken Word)
Curtains up NOW OWN ~IT~ AS IF   you're the King    of the whole     **** stage   when you're really   just another player acting out for those cheap seats you survey Where else **** HERE* would THEY get to see such a [defamation] -free play?" (laughing) **"Best you throw some sweets**. Indulge them ...**I'd say! ...I'd say!"** The Evil Queen  smirks & a knife glints in her hand Is she creeping up Behind You? (or... does she need a real man?) Ahhhh!!     you see... she's exhausted A-LADD-IN & she knows where to find you.. (evil laughter) Ohhhh! It's just as well you're in costume *...now  remember your lines* "Don't props (& illusions) make a jolly good night!" and baby, WOW! you look Oh! Soooo cute in those tights!                                   and with a sweep of the stage, the smirking Queen exits >               right This stage is all yours now So Buttons...    take a bow (us Brits love an underdog in a fight) ... Make your bow deep ~with a flourish of resplendence~ that captures their hearts try more than That wiggle -and a lot more- than one dance!                        To do it well...                                                                         get a catchphrase (which we'll ALL lurvey darlink from the start) Believe me, is good Always is     another... try the one     you've used in      rehearsals with the   Stepsisters - all dragged up- looking L    O              V      U           E            G                L       L                                                        Y              (like their mother)                                                                                            cough                                                                                  **** it..                                Everyone chokes                                on the dry ice that swirls!                      The audience ponders.... WHO's the boys ? THAT's... a... girl ?!                                 &                       in                  the                low              glow                they'll see           Cinders singing of loves' sweet melody,   those s l o w shoe shuffles             softly sliding across their                                                      t                                                    r                                                          a                                                                 p                                                                                            door hearts   Laughing & crying along through each emotion of the tattered   sweet princess, who               simply hasn't had                              a Prince in her...                     winks                            sights                                                (YET!)           then   **Act II ends with a Flash! & a Bang!**   They all lived   ever after...        Cinders' happy? THE END
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*Aurora's resplendence aloft Setting irises aglow Ashen hazel Erupting into stardust Mirror of the soul drenched In tenderness Capturing the essence of perfection Eyes like Jerusalem Sublime in your bones You bleed halcyon Suffusing the bare with pigment Transfixed in your delicate gaze Fading in the kaleidoscope Of your halo, anchored A conduit replaying an echo Of transient inhaled solace A rapturous smile Breaths life into corrupted lungs Filling the darkest of dwellings As though to lasso the moon To present it at my feet*
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Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 3:42 PM UTC
Jerusalem
Waterfalls Are A Magnificent Force of Nature, Formed over Softness, And Hard rock- Creating New life, And it Flows down And continues All the time. There is A mysticism That surrounds- Standing Behind It as it Rushes down To the bottom; And wouldn’t It be surreal; And, I wonder What it would Be like to be That water In another life, Becoming alive In another form, Resplendence, Shining Forever. The wind Carrying You, In this life And the next one... Don’t be afraid, I dreamed this.
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Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 3:55 AM UTC
Waterfalls
When I write here of desire This specific wanting; the how of now, I am not talking about the tightrope walk of lust, That pleasant lower belly pull; A trembling, tugging need. My wanting right now is for the soft warm crush Of your hand in mine as we stroll through autumn halls Bedecked with fallen leaves, the shedding trees An audience to the resplendence of our love Which deepens into the season of sleep With the same inevitability and beauty As the crispness of the morning And the birds that heed the calling Of promised warmth, in another land, Another space and time.
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Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 10:18 AM UTC
Love at Harvest-Time
Incapacitated by my own illness Surrounded by an invisible cage Cannot fill this endless void Broken by this choice of inconceivable rage. Loathing all that evil brings Sickened by the torture inflicted Drowning by the tears I've shed Dreading the truth that we've all become addicted. Conscious desire turns my lungs into lead Resplendence within my soul more intrepid than I thought I know it's not the end, for now The war of the mind cannot be physically fought. The dripping of the candle wax In the light of the moon Insight of what's happening Wishing it would be soon
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Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 2:48 PM UTC
In the Light of the Moon
the sun also rises with the smoke, staling sweetly while the coffee drinkers scatter dewy dawns. we're smoking your last cigarette letting soreness seep into concupiscent sluggish limbs, as sleep-cornered bedroom eyes melt their waxy redness into the cruelty of morning light. insipid tongues, chapped and swollen, speak in strokes of satin whispers; breathy simple silken strands                                                                                                                                            "you're so soft" scintillate resplendence with moth-wing gentleness to evanesce the daybreak chill. how i yearn to remain in between the days, hazily hidden in the serenity of our echo-quiet secret place.
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Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 3:58 AM UTC
you're so soft
Have I forsaken The sanctity of dreams Enabling the cacophony of small chattering crises Droning desires dominate my days Clinging to incantations and litanies of little lies Repetitive resonance no substitute For your whispered word Sipping the residue of wickedness from this burnished cauldron of the world Toxic stupor no replacement for you Enabling vulgarities to reign supreme This was never my lucid dream I am blinded by your radiance The mirrored pure light of your soul Resplendence magnified Purified in a river of pain You cleanse me from within Erase my melancholy days I am uplifted from this abyss You breathe my lucid dream TLBoehm 061807
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Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
Lucid
I am counting things at night numbers, dreams hum of a hundred bells soft harps to soothe sweet with birds colored blue in the tiger grass, big eyed cats twitchy whiskers and paws they sleep beneath tree limbs branches wild and gnawed. Do not wake me while the garden is glowing a thousand flowers in rows I am fixed on violets hydrangeas indigo blue with fingers I paint thick brick in red rose variants on the lawn peacocks in resplendence with monde blue-green iridescence and a million gypsophila clouds pass by.
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Feb 10, 2021
Feb 10, 2021 at 5:28 PM UTC
Garden no. 9
How shall I know thee in the sphere which keeps The disembodied spirits of the dead, When all of thee that time could wither sleeps And perishes among the dust we tread? For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain If there I meet thy gentle presence not; Nor hear the voice I love, nor read again In thy serenest eyes the tender thought. Will not thy own meek heart demand me there? That heart whose fondest throbs to me were given? My name on earth was ever in thy prayer, Shall it be banished from thy tongue in heaven? In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing wind, In the resplendence of that glorious sphere, And larger movements of the unfettered mind, Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here? The love that lived through all the stormy past, And meekly with my harsher nature bore, And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last, Shall it expire with life, and be no more? A happier lot than mine, and larger light, Await thee there; for thou hast bowed thy will In cheerful homage to the rule of right, And lovest all, and renderest good for ill. For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell, Shrink and consume my heart, as heat the scroll; And wrath has left its scar--that fire of hell Has left its frightful scar upon my soul. Yet though thou wear'st the glory of the sky, Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name, The same fair thoughtful brow, and gentle eye, Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same? Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home, The wisdom that I learned so ill in this-- The wisdom which is love--till I become Thy fit companion in that land of bliss?
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1.2k
The Future Life
How shall I know thee in the sphere which keeps The disembodied spirits of the dead, When all of thee that time could wither sleeps And perishes among the dust we tread? For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain If there I meet thy gentle presence not; Nor hear the voice I love, nor read again In thy serenest eyes the tender thought. Will not thy own meek heart demand me there? That heart whose fondest throbs to me were given? My name on earth was ever in thy prayer, Shall it be banished from thy tongue in heaven? In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing wind, In the resplendence of that glorious sphere, And larger movements of the unfettered mind, Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here? The love that lived through all the stormy past, And meekly with my harsher nature bore, And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last, Shall it expire with life, and be no more? A happier lot than mine, and larger light, Await thee there; for thou hast bowed thy will In cheerful homage to the rule of right, And lovest all, and renderest good for ill. For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell, Shrink and consume my heart, as heat the scroll; And wrath has left its scar--that fire of hell Has left its frightful scar upon my soul. Yet though thou wear'st the glory of the sky, Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name, The same fair thoughtful brow, and gentle eye, Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same? Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home, The wisdom that I learned so ill in this-- The wisdom which is love--till I become Thy fit companion in that land of bliss?
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...shake off... who's Whoville's lifelong dispatch! without cut n' dip deeper...O's to Joy... possible not... resplendence gesticulating wildly... momently... whilst depth lapsing... beautifying its Void.
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Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 12:47 AM UTC
Beautifying its Void