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Dennis Willis Jun 2023
the Thursday's I couldn't
find myself pretense
has all but run

to single syllables
darting away from
the light as if
scalded  

all along and all
along you knew
didn't you
new again
instantaneous
instantiation
insta fren
listen 'gain
verbs reign

lift this part up
with your falling
fear of naught but
full enough
of listen

under look
Jack Mar 2015
.

On the wings of adventure
and channel planned visions
In bonafide pockets
with envelopes streaming

When sidewalk dividers,
the colors of sunset
bring peace to the valley,
now penned in a post card

          “…wish you were here”

And bricks line the mansion
with cats in the garden,
alongside the seashells
and beaches we’ll wander

I look to the sunshine
to see its reflection
upon your sweet features,
your beauty it holds me

          “Vacation photographs cannot do justice”

In rhythmed oasis
of sweet waters churning
and moments we’re seeking
in all we are wanting

With shadows behind us
as we go out walking
to love every minute
adventures are flying

          “We find that our dreams lead us on our journey”

I follow the smiles,
that don’t belong to me
of hot seasoned concrete
and t-shirts emblazoned

With images captured,
yet still fashioned frowning,
until you arrive
and my heart swims the shoreline

          “My vacation destination is your heart”

Feathered dunes outline
finding the side streets amazing,
hibiscus and bougainvillea
and fragrances swaying

When every sunrise
does find you here with me,
of bright painted post cards
and moments eternal

          *“We shall forever live in love…”
vircapio gale Oct 2015
projective geometry used to get me *****
all those positions

,palmately pink and ever green
breathing vasts of void my dark heart laughs in gulping wholes
moaning plenums, hooded over boundless venus-vim

now i'm tired of infinite lines
too many shapes to fit in
too wide, too tight, sharp or empty

,too many ways to come

this was meant to be a disclaimer before a collection of poems

,a way to unclutter
                angst of public  
                              lexicality,
years  after  ­ 'explaining'
                  Samir's 'polygonal me'
                                                to only-me-myself-i-was,
to then indulge this analogic soundlessness...
             
        as i disengage

i can't write without planning on it
i can't write about  writing  without feeling like a fool
                                                            ­                 (,Lear is the only one
that saves me now
                       as now i am the Fool,
                                                 dividing hearts along
in storm-***-love-like railway-*****
                                 steaming full of fiberoptic nooks,
chaining spectra-cogs of a good-will-spirit-****:
                                       concatenated hard-ons every word
each thought a pulsate vulval dream awake,
                                                redichotom­izing lives
                         of shining mons my Athene forehead
                                                      forging fountain thought,
                          urethral letting-beings-be...
freely, my chubby comes back to me
                                         prone before the prostate god)

,in other words
              the same,
                     i cannot write as other than a fool
for
why should i repeat the abject horror of the world?
isn't despair a bit.. overdone at this point?!
and why should i write just the happy!? i'm not in denial, am i?
or am i in denial
about insisting on being in denial absolutely?
--like mind-only schools...
(O the uselessness of words, dismissing patriarchal vigor with yet another wave, the 'brine-milk' ends unending,
forever Femen liberating us of words,
replaced with Fragilaria,
wasting diatomic seas and waterways,
depleted algae gone, extinct: metaphysiCalListo-craticality aborted on a broken Amazonic spear,
our bodies, bodied-hearts, finally won as ours, across Alternaqueeria, fully lucid human-species spanned
i blink my tears and blur my gaze at weeping Pleides

the plan was this: painful poem, pleasure poem, painful poem, happy poem... **** poem, sterile poem, carnal poem, priggish poem, punk poem, open poem, confessing poem, eros poem, **** poem, 'obscene-attractive' poem...
to cleanse inverted mainstreams of my steady-rhythmed pratitpaksha-bhavanams; not "poem, poem, poem, poem..."
but a taut poeming in and out of poems of poemed poiesis prosing poets free to **** again in Issa's snow, or *** on Chiera's cumaholic Shards.

pendulum left, pendulum right; then two pendulums, then none; then one that swings right and left at the same time; then one that spins all the way around, but only clockwise; then one counter-clockwise; then one both clockwise and counterclockwise; then one timeless, then one imaginary one... full of infinite little ones... to represent all the pendulata in the universe as experienced through minor parts of self.. itself as universal part-whole-parcel self-hood spanning star-births yet to come...
,
,
,but it's time to eat a 'square' meal
take off my job-search tie, my peddled lies
                   forget the sunrise vestibules we sipped from,
                                           sleeping by commoding cows

and pretend i'm not dicking myself over
                                                          by­ retreating
into cryptic spectionism-voids again
                                               all seagull-divert-adverts, play
of frozen youth abstrused,
                      self-referred referring loosed
                                          staggered worse than marginalia
no single species 'seagull' singing here
Impulzez Nov 2012
In The Nite



Kisses under the moonlite



Creating shadows in the darknite



Singing Luvsongs after the Sunlite



Rhythmed on the sounds of beings of this nite



Clinging unto memories of all nites



Whistling tunes echoed before the Sunlite



Speaking to the unseen images of the sacred lite



Humming truluv’s music for all nites



Sequenced along the sound of this guitarist



Making sweetluv under the Starlite



Holding unto cleavages of my naked site



Kissing goodbye to the full lite



Wishing you the best of the daylite



Till we see again



In the nite
Sing words; that the body of time
  Gives to eloquent mind it's due,
Sing words; the creation of bones that
  The body's own day shines through.

Sing time; that the world not catch fire
  While we're treading it's rhythmed core,
Sing time; that your lies and your ages
  Are the sign of a closing door.

Sing bones; we'll put up a big stone
  To show you when your last days are done,
Sing bones; and your loved ones will gaze
  At that last place you lost the sun.
aurora kastanias Mar 2018
The lives we cross unknowing
The green-grass paths they wayfare,
Fables of fays and fiends unspoken
Truths belonging to entities of matter,

Flesh bones a body, rhythmed by breath
A heartbeat, pumps red juices carrying
Cleansing oxygen through tireless veins
To a brain, synapses creating thoughts

Interpreting, nervous sensations only
Tempered by hormonal roller coasters
As we defy, the mystic and attempt
To make sense of our existence beyond

The astonishing complex husk leisurely,
Deteriorating in time as we blow on candles
Grasping indeed there is far more inside,
A microcosm endeavouring to reconcile

With an all-pervasive Universe encompassing
As stars fall before our eyes, chronic sunrise,
Twirling incessantly without ever feeling
Dizzy, dazed by questions sparkling intuitively

As we struggle with the limits of earthly
Confinement, the green-grass paths we wayfare,
Health impediments, mental distortions,
Quarrelling with our fellow adventurers

Our frustrations, neglecting to acknowledge
The fays lifting us up whilst unpredictable
Fiends bid to crush when unexpectedly
Unfathomable interior strength unites

Us through experience a succession
Of collective errors misinterpretations
Aware however that we will endure,
Evolve to reach our highest potentials

For a unique welfare granted to all
Creatures, as we set course into the vastness
Of bewilderment, inexplicable space,
Omnific unfurling home to humanity

And all the breaths within.
On life and humankind
wordvango Sep 2015
came a day  and it was autumn
green ran to where summer went
yellow and crimson  turned grey
covered the world in cold winds

thus, midday on thursday a day
the sun burst through  intermittently
making autumn look beautiful

when down fluttered
the prettiest gold leaf

right beside me
said hello

I stuttered

a leaf is mute.

the tree that sent her to me said
no,
you are just out of tune.

Keeping time, then with
the old tree I rhymed

rhythmed  
played  on autumns breeze.

I woke up then to
see, I had fallen fast asleep and it was winter.
wordvango Feb 2016
came a day,  and it was autumn again.
green ran to where summer was,
yellow and crimson  turned grey and brown
cold colors covered the world.

thus, midday on thursday,
the sun burst through,  intermittently,
the red and orange
lingering  made autumn look beautiful.

when down fluttered
the prettiest gold leaf
     right beside
             me.
hello said the leaf!  

a leaf is mute. But I heard a voice, in the cool breeze
speak so clearly.

I in awe , noticed the tree from where the leaf
fell, standing tall and naked say,
you are just out of tune.

Keeping time, then with
the old tree I rhymed.

rhythmed,
played with the one leaf,
and a tree who both so clearly spoke to me.

I woke up then to
see, I had fallen fast asleep and it was winter.
Poetic T Feb 2017
Shallow breaths now  woven
    intervening
                        between those occasions
where lips disconnect momentarily.

Smiles greet the gazes of the others.
Palms are like gentle
                                    rain
                                           drops
on each others chest, hearing each others
rhythmed emotions blend to the others moments .
Paul Lost Jan 2016
Rhythmed hearts change with time
Molded souls no longer twine
Everything ends
Paid for our crimes

Let me go
let me be
Let hearts grow again kind
It is time to let go
Let space allow me to find

Cruelty grows
although it is fine
Mosaic of dreams
You're no longer mine

Let me go
let me be
Let me grow without bind
It is time to let go
Stop bungling my mind

Lifted shoulders reveal
Worlds filled with shine
Break free from this burden
Let the stars aline

Let me go
let me be
Let emotions unwind
It is time to let go
Tears leave you blind

Let you go, to let you be
Gave words that were kind
It was time to let go
Buried memories behind
Kelly N Oct 2015
Falling in our arms was as easy as reading my favorite book; it was quick and soothing.
You took me in a whole different universe
Hours became minutes and minutes became distant memories.
Because with you, time doesn’t stop -but flies away.
Consuming each minute as if it were our last , out of breath, out of love we are suffocating.

It is time to get apart again,water slowly fills the room, and I have nowhere to feel safe again, everything feels out of place.
My heartbeat is desperately trying to match yours, to reproduce the perfect harmony that once rhythmed our lives
In the end I wonder : would you be the one saving me from this ocean of pain or were you the one who filled it  in the first place?
Metrology

The weather plays a big part in  me
When the sunshine and the wind is calm
I feel the lightness of being.
When storm blows and dark clouds  
My mind gets dark, and I think of suicide
However, I like to watch thunder and lightning
stay on the terrace and sing
“Hit me with your rhythmed stick” a bit of a song
I remember.
A full moon is depressing it is as it is trying to lure
me into the ocean it is the silvery glittering
that attracts me to do a daring thing like swimming
with wales or having fun with dolphins.
Sinister Mar 2020
As tones of dusk embrace the dawn
beneath a harvest moon,
his thoughts relive the moments gone,
the lyrics 'midst his tune
and somewhere deep beneath the beat
he's carried through the years,
the echoes speak of rhythmed feet,
resigned the end is near

A gleam enflames his tired eyes
as rev'ries roam his soul,
and somewhere past their lullaby,
he hearing church bells toll
as truths invade the peaceful calm
and settle 'pon his mind,
a maelstrom made of timeless qualm
and memoirs redefined.

From whence they came, to fade away
as aons redesign
bereft a chance, like night and day
to once again align
and still, he knows, beyond a doubt
the worth he's vested there,
what life is really all about,
the seconds often shared.

As tones of dusk embrace the dawn
beneath a harvest moon,
his thoughts relive the mem'ries drawn,
the journey fraught with boons,
and somewhere deep beneath the beat
he's carried through the years
he knows he's lived a life, complete
through joyfulness and tears.
S R Mats Dec 2020
My skin drum beats the message
Deep from within my chest sending
Out the rhythmed vibrations
Hopefully, the sound will pound
Upon your own heart

— The End —