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"sediments" poems
Rocks; these are my rocks. Sediments: make me sedimental. Smooth and round, asleep in the ground. Shades of brown and gray abound. ~Maud Pie
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May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 7:09 AM UTC
Rocks
we are all rocks. we are built up over many years, influenced by our surroundings as we weather and erode as part of the conditions we are subjected to - the trials that we are put through. we are compressed by the weight of heavy loads. we will be weighed down by our heavy hearts, and crushed by forces of the universe that are bigger than us. we are made up of many sediments, fragments of other rocks. the influence of others. we are the composition of everyone whom we've met, and their impact on our lives. some people leave larger pieces of sediment, while some are smaller than a tiny grain of sand. but they make us who we are today. and we never die. we live on for millions of years, you and me - these rocks are the physical imprints of our spiritual souls on the earth, because everyone affects something in one way or the other. we may not believe it, but believe this: we have the power to change the world - just by being here. we are a part of the bigger picture, a series of rocks that make up part of human history. wherever you go, you will have made your mark. be it just a tiny dent in the soil, or a boulder that fell from a mountain - realise that things would be different if you had not been what you are and gone where you've been.
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
rocks
Being alone is not loneliness Time we spend with ourselves Listening to our inner voices The symphony of the universe So many things unheard before A revelation to the Soul that yearns To taste the purity of this origin Sediments of chaos settle down Giving you clarity and pure thoughts Mind, heart, and soul in concord Clearer perspective of the truth Otherwise obfuscated by distractions
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Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 10:56 PM UTC
Alone Time
your gusto ripping through my veins 'merican flags trump supporters platinum beer fireworks flaring fires visible atop seedy peeled-paint rvs technicolor lights amped up on edgy recreational vehicles 4000 (BRIGHT BLUE), 6000 (BRIGHT GREEN), 750XR ON-AND-ON-AND covered in dirt and filth eating meat sizzled atop   flames atop charcoal bricks and lighter fluid complimented by krafts brand mac n cheese i am apart of it you know your triumph burns sticky, out of my skin guiltily i came into being birthed inside anthracitic sediments and lighter fluid scratching, writhing, biting at the mercy of a hyper-paint / subtle-death encrusted reality
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Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 8:52 PM UTC
seeking it out of my given flesh
*We share our deficiencies: A haven of sorrow and fury* Friendly - they say hello In mischief and spite. Warm or cool under your feet They swerve near nonchalant districts And foamy lips Destructive - they leave without saying goodbye A routine they developed Over the series of washed up regrets And maroon sediments Attached - they stick like superglue To the pang they forgot to tell you about They leave and take a part with them And inevitably imprint themselves onto you *We share our deficiencies: A haven of sorrow and fury*
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Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
Oceanly Nomadic
phobic sky orphic sea malleable beings exposed to the atmosphere can we finally be surfacing? aliferous dreamscape living, breathing particles and waves sediments that the glacial ice has carved off the earth to build their erosion timeline a memory of us together collecting stones touching hands filigree and shadow metanoia in the sanctuary where we feel safe can we finally be surfacing?
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Feb 11, 2023
Feb 11, 2023 at 11:14 AM UTC
Gullfoss
Its hard to believe to listen to The sound of silence through layman's ears For silence,an unestablished thought Rides the young hearts only through fear. Maturity, an understanding through beneath Sediments like evils srata For if you conquered,it only leads To the sound of silence,every data. For as we stare, me and words together, Silence redeems through the pages Every drop of ink forever Can spell the words through all the ages. The silence that lingers between Begs me to hear it closer Its trying to express the unwanted enclitic The words that will fade never. And now as i cherish this conversation of silence, I realize that ink has a spirit And to know the mistake i have committed Which on my face like a bright light lit. And to know the spectacular reason I'm astonished myself, i must say Ink helps us when we are not thinking Flowing on paper without delay. This sound of silence that i have gathered now, Must be of great help all through my life It will let me hear all those unsound-able things And help me to decide when to stab a knife. Through my youth scores, a bunch of thirty Led me through a rugged terrain, And now i want a plain surface with lots of pleasure To lead a life, to be truly sane. The sound is like a hand i want Which helps me to walk in young years Through the blasphemy, through humanism It will strike away all my fears. Does one realize that i said The words of silence through every phase The crumb of bread a beggar needs The food of life heaven feeds? They can't be realized by screaming though oceans, They can't be realized by ending a story For they are the curse of hearing unknown thoughts, The sound of silence one and only. My heart beats are frantic now, As i have reached the harmonics of music, Sweet and presentable they are now Tapping your life like your feet. They are many fellows who can't sing So they make you suffer the sound of silence With every teardrop longing for supper Fighting their way through all the violence. For those who have a great voice It doesn't mean that they have to be proud, For it may break any time Like breaking a stone, like rumbling of clouds. And i may not be an instrumentalist And i may not be a teacher, But i can stop the silence and let them hear music And make them smile, not to suffer.
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Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 4:24 AM UTC
Sound of Silence
Its hard to believe to listen to The sound of silence through layman's ears For silence,an unestablished thought Rides the young hearts only through fear. Maturity, an understanding through beneath Sediments like evils srata For if you conquered,it only leads To the sound of silence,every data. For as we stare, me and words together, Silence redeems through the pages Every drop of ink forever Can spell the words through all the ages. The silence that lingers between Begs me to hear it closer Its trying to express the unwanted enclitic The words that will fade never. And now as i cherish this conversation of silence, I realize that ink has a spirit And to know the mistake i have committed Which on my face like a bright light lit. And to know the spectacular reason I'm astonished myself, i must say Ink helps us when we are not thinking Flowing on paper without delay. This sound of silence that i have gathered now, Must be of great help all through my life It will let me hear all those unsound-able things And help me to decide when to stab a knife. Through my youth scores, a bunch of thirty Led me through a rugged terrain, And now i want a plain surface with lots of pleasure To lead a life, to be truly sane. The sound is like a hand i want Which helps me to walk in young years Through the blasphemy, through humanism It will strike away all my fears. Does one realize that i said The words of silence through every phase The crumb of bread a beggar needs The food of life heaven feeds? They can't be realized by screaming though oceans, They can't be realized by ending a story For they are the curse of hearing unknown thoughts, The sound of silence one and only. My heart beats are frantic now, As i have reached the harmonics of music, Sweet and presentable they are now Tapping your life like your feet. They are many fellows who can't sing So they make you suffer the sound of silence With every teardrop longing for supper Fighting their way through all the violence. For those who have a great voice It doesn't mean that they have to be proud, For it may break any time Like breaking a stone, like rumbling of clouds. And i may not be an instrumentalist And i may not be a teacher, But i can stop the silence and let them hear music And make them smile, not to suffer.
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60
Social relations.      Fading, dissipating.            Regenerated and rebuilding. Everything held deep spills out over past memories and future broken promises.      Talking of brighter days with different time lines. Watching, talking, passively dissecting minds of those like mine.           All investigating our inner workings and imagined surroundings.                      It's in the waking hours of the dawn. It's when time is irrelevant.         When the new day brings nothing but revelations and unfiltered ramblings.                Anything to fill this  void.    The morning air feels stale compared to renewed awakenings. Constantly picking at the scab.           Digging for one last laugh.                                         A final smile.                        The perfect ending for the night we might forget.       We forge new mental pathways and plan play dates. Evolutionary socialization.             Cigarettes serve as reality checks and mirrored reflections.                          Open eyes burning for something tangible.                  Awake and unaware.        Filtering through the nonsense and intellectual genius. Trying to read the dusted lessons buried between advice and elaborate fairy tales.    We speak of ideas.      We speak of all the things that rest on the ledge of our understanding.         We dream of what it is and what it could be. All seeking growth.       All staying just within the caution tape. Ponderous wondering of connections and false enlightenment.                                                I remain skeptical even though I've felt it.   My mind has always held an untrusting grudge against my intuition.      In the end it's just another day.                               Contributions minimal.                  Lessons learned... Still settling their sediments.         They're Remnants.
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Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 2:29 AM UTC
RamblingDawn
Social relations.      Fading, dissipating.            Regenerated and rebuilding. Everything held deep spills out over past memories and future broken promises.      Talking of brighter days with different time lines. Watching, talking, passively dissecting minds of those like mine.           All investigating our inner workings and imagined surroundings.                      It's in the waking hours of the dawn. It's when time is irrelevant.         When the new day brings nothing but revelations and unfiltered ramblings.                Anything to fill this  void.    The morning air feels stale compared to renewed awakenings. Constantly picking at the scab.           Digging for one last laugh.                                         A final smile.                        The perfect ending for the night we might forget.       We forge new mental pathways and plan play dates. Evolutionary socialization.             Cigarettes serve as reality checks and mirrored reflections.                          Open eyes burning for something tangible.                  Awake and unaware.        Filtering through the nonsense and intellectual genius. Trying to read the dusted lessons buried between advice and elaborate fairy tales.    We speak of ideas.      We speak of all the things that rest on the ledge of our understanding.         We dream of what it is and what it could be. All seeking growth.       All staying just within the caution tape. Ponderous wondering of connections and false enlightenment.                                                I remain skeptical even though I've felt it.   My mind has always held an untrusting grudge against my intuition.      In the end it's just another day.                               Contributions minimal.                  Lessons learned... Still settling their sediments.         They're Remnants.
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34
/// After born, a child subconsciously engaged with the nature she (nature)doesn't play well as usual, all the time of his life because someone somehow plays the negative role with her He who does not know the life,   and doesn't know how and why she originated the waterfall, And generated a vigorous stream but when someone cuts in the face of a river, and moving water whatever he liked otherwise, his own purpose ( in a negative sense) Day by day the river moved slowly slowly and slowly, water didn't carry, the overdue sediments toward the sea day by day, the river grew inflated and becoming a silted bed One day the rain came as cats and dogs slowly and slowly, it has made the flood over the flood plain and swift away lands and roads then the water has seemed useless The child grew older now he feels consciously about the worst work that someone did with her And he (older child) thinks, what does he feel? when someone cuts in the face of a river /// @Musfiq us shaleheen
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Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
when someone cuts in the face of a river
We may only postulate the beauty that awaits beyond these gates of probability. Haughtily in wait of wax wings clutching the stolen tools that experience brings father laid out the flight pattern crying out against the vile lament. Examining the sun in melted, and falling feathers, against fathers wishes. drowning in the negligent sediments of the blessing, lost. flightless in sightless frost tossed into eternity
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Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 10:51 PM UTC
Icarus
I'm afraid to slow down, as if loss of repetitiveness allows for sediments. Mind races, paces.          Over works its self in the wake of new faces. I'm begging for acceptance to follow this direction.                     Harvesting all this love, gaining gems of affection Scarred and torn my flesh is my own,                                                        I'm grown. Up, I climb further into danger's soothing catacombs.                The shells of un-fulfillment shed with precision. I'm dreaming of blackouts with a blurred vision.                                                             Steeping tea of poor decisions. Wasted, wasting, weightless. Repetitive, sediments, settling into broken dreams.              Filling the corners of my mind, spilling hope,                                                                    Tethering seams.
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Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 10:19 AM UTC
Repetitive sediments
See, the smile on the stone face of the mountain, once so cold, stoic it drives home the meaning of change brought about by erosion of ages past, molten paste slowly sediments, decides to be various kind of rocks on it's path being metamorphic is just one of it's pranks, volcanoes in ******** frenzy erupt, display the pyrotechnics of creation in it's ******  urge a deep sea stream breaks tectonic plates,makes new continents mountains that hold their heads high, are brought down by landslides, floods avalanches or sudden cloudbursts stars script secret messages across galaxies the meanings will never be deciphered in spite of the astonishing research astrophysics can put together and the thirst for knowledge of mankind Beauty, my muse, lovely concert I adore, I see you in animals, birds and fish that undergo mutation and become different, ocean currents, seasons,shower of stardust, most of all in music, that activates the hidden signals, that come beyond birth and death,embedded within oneself Can you cite one reason for writing biography of any one, whoever it may be, in this planet?
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Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
No biography is relevant my dear
The woods have become denser Where roots have gone deeper Lost between the intricate mesh Of the branches and that hold Embracing each other in a synergy Here the lost soul is looking for a way To navigate between the labyrinth Ideas and thoughts are not porous Ground realities have become grim Recoiled are the roots deep within Looking to move away from the lacunae As the woods come closer and grasp This soul has no answer to the questions Pertinent doubts are raised No looking away from the harsh world Feeling crushed between two realities A hallucinatory phase feels so real Nothing but prisoners we are Caught between the woods of reality Souls filtered us through travails Here are the sediments seeping Deep into the ground, where roots reclaim
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Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 1:31 AM UTC
In the Woods
Flood on me Drown me deep Gasping for air Daunting mystique Impaled vulture claws Tearing out vein Captivating **** Wretched in pain Injected in the arm Poison me slow Agonizing sediments Driven in the hole Trapped in the wreck Impaled by the steel **** drunk driver Can't really feel Long way down High off the bridge Rejecting my mistake Dead on the ridge
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Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
Five Ways to Die
All estuaries flow eastbound, and the subterranean rail tracks keep forcing against the estuaries’ grain and dust foundations perpendicularly to them. How can a sane proposition -- a quantification of syntax execution (those squirming cuticles through bonds of regression)— an excessive reflection, reflexive inspection, Prove its sanity through continued suggestion? Deductive insurrections stirred in memory, A rumble, causing sediments to crumble, Wineglasses balanced atop countertops tumble. Spilling contents upon the grained wooden, elitists' floors. "Anesthetic, onsetting tuberculosis in breath patterns, Gavels ringing on rigged tolling tongs in caverns, Dark tolerances to Copernican astronomy in shadows, And the handle grinds as boxcar wheels' flints and steels catch and spark in addled locks," I mumbled from a half-nap. It was surgery, the smooth procedures on the moving trains, The gains and plectrums scraped against the brains' spider veins, To reorganize the sane, to bridge the broken definitions changed, To prevent arguments' bone structure from fractures and sprains. "Use gavels against the scalpels, sculpt with their judgment," a corona dream's habitant corrugated. He pounded the gavel's end against the knife to chisel at the pituitary gland pulsing in his subject, And her arms flailed like a horse's legs in heat-induced convulsion. I thought it was done. The Canson Merue train screamed in the night under earth to Yellowknife to meet Canadian soil as the Heavy Breather pounded his gavel.
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Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
The Continued Suggestion (Subterrain)
All estuaries flow eastbound, and the subterranean rail tracks keep forcing against the estuaries’ grain and dust foundations perpendicularly to them. How can a sane proposition -- a quantification of syntax execution (those squirming cuticles through bonds of regression)— an excessive reflection, reflexive inspection, Prove its sanity through continued suggestion? Deductive insurrections stirred in memory, A rumble, causing sediments to crumble, Wineglasses balanced atop countertops tumble. Spilling contents upon the grained wooden, elitists' floors. "Anesthetic, onsetting tuberculosis in breath patterns, Gavels ringing on rigged tolling tongs in caverns, Dark tolerances to Copernican astronomy in shadows, And the handle grinds as boxcar wheels' flints and steels catch and spark in addled locks," I mumbled from a half-nap. It was surgery, the smooth procedures on the moving trains, The gains and plectrums scraped against the brains' spider veins, To reorganize the sane, to bridge the broken definitions changed, To prevent arguments' bone structure from fractures and sprains. "Use gavels against the scalpels, sculpt with their judgment," a corona dream's habitant corrugated. He pounded the gavel's end against the knife to chisel at the pituitary gland pulsing in his subject, And her arms flailed like a horse's legs in heat-induced convulsion. I thought it was done. The Canson Merue train screamed in the night under earth to Yellowknife to meet Canadian soil as the Heavy Breather pounded his gavel.
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20
It's getting late  Why don't you want to be here  Beside me, for me to watch you  I need you  I want you  If you afraid... Don't be  If you afraid... Don't be  Don't be scared, I won't hurt you  Like he did... Twice babe. I want you to like the method to my manliness  See I hope that you make an exception for my friendliness, because my tenderness is splendiferous  I am quite a gentlemen, however it do not stop my urge to dive deep into your sediments and kiss all over your floetry... Is that alright?  All you gotta do is say yes  Set aside your stress  Undress  Rest  Stretch As I flex  And I caress  ...Apex We make a mess I whisper, close to your year  "There's is only one for me, you have made that possibility"  So I don't mind taking that step to "sea" Your wavy shore  Before I walk along it all you have to do is say yes  You sure?  Then you say "right there" Followed by how I "make you so, so, so"  Open up your mind, because it's getting later Don't deny if I'm making you wetter  It's almost late  You're here for a reason  Beside me  Watching me watch you  Knowing I'm needing you  Feeling me wanting you  I can see that you're afraid... Don't be  I can see that you're afraid... Don't be  Because I'm cautious about hurting you  Twice is more than enough  My method of manliness  Is the reason why we're breathless  Why do I question?  The clock?  Because my big hand and your little hand has attracted  After we latched it  We traded keys  Your trembling knees  My laughter  Is assurance  That I plan to be here happily after  Just say yes  And i'll be here until the morning  Then i'll be here for the excitement, and I'll be around when it's boring  Not only appearing when I'm *****  I can taste the lineage because your family is supportive of my decisions  It's really late  For you to be afraid  The lights is out  But trust that I'm right here  Wiping your tears  Afraid of losing you  We're both scared  For you it's being hurt twice For me it's hurting a woman again  It's too late  You basically said yes  By wearing my shirt as your dress  By not denying your head to my chest  Your temple to my peck  You finally mumble I'm the best  And only thing I had left to say is "yes" "You make me so, so , so ... "
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Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 4:40 PM UTC
It's Getting Late, So Say Yes
It's getting late  Why don't you want to be here  Beside me, for me to watch you  I need you  I want you  If you afraid... Don't be  If you afraid... Don't be  Don't be scared, I won't hurt you  Like he did... Twice babe. I want you to like the method to my manliness  See I hope that you make an exception for my friendliness, because my tenderness is splendiferous  I am quite a gentlemen, however it do not stop my urge to dive deep into your sediments and kiss all over your floetry... Is that alright?  All you gotta do is say yes  Set aside your stress  Undress  Rest  Stretch As I flex  And I caress  ...Apex We make a mess I whisper, close to your year  "There's is only one for me, you have made that possibility"  So I don't mind taking that step to "sea" Your wavy shore  Before I walk along it all you have to do is say yes  You sure?  Then you say "right there" Followed by how I "make you so, so, so"  Open up your mind, because it's getting later Don't deny if I'm making you wetter  It's almost late  You're here for a reason  Beside me  Watching me watch you  Knowing I'm needing you  Feeling me wanting you  I can see that you're afraid... Don't be  I can see that you're afraid... Don't be  Because I'm cautious about hurting you  Twice is more than enough  My method of manliness  Is the reason why we're breathless  Why do I question?  The clock?  Because my big hand and your little hand has attracted  After we latched it  We traded keys  Your trembling knees  My laughter  Is assurance  That I plan to be here happily after  Just say yes  And i'll be here until the morning  Then i'll be here for the excitement, and I'll be around when it's boring  Not only appearing when I'm *****  I can taste the lineage because your family is supportive of my decisions  It's really late  For you to be afraid  The lights is out  But trust that I'm right here  Wiping your tears  Afraid of losing you  We're both scared  For you it's being hurt twice For me it's hurting a woman again  It's too late  You basically said yes  By wearing my shirt as your dress  By not denying your head to my chest  Your temple to my peck  You finally mumble I'm the best  And only thing I had left to say is "yes" "You make me so, so , so ... "
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74
A meteor you are, earthquake from hell am I from underground so far, to falling from the sky. An effort made so deep, A vision set so high, Your sediments shall creep 'til once more we're awry.
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May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 12:03 AM UTC
Meteors & Fissures
The oceans flow and bring with them hope. The tide comes and washes our sins away. A means of finding a way to cope. I hope this waters are calm enough to stay. A levee is built to hold back the flood. But still some sediments seep through. The pollutants build up like contaminants in blood. Flowing toxins deep inside of you. I look up for a moment and notice a cloud, The sky and the ocean are one in the same. Both with tremendous ability to burst aloud, While suppressing it's power in a matter that's tame. I look back down as I drift to sea, And a smile comes across my face. I realize that everything within me, Is a possession of this enchanted place.
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Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 5:32 PM UTC
Drifted Away
pleasant-to-be duney minded    sediments of mood-blooming    yet to calcify          light wind and arbor    harbour from record heats          meat fed steaming sun    looming life    bawling upon the venue    hosted with joshing glee    but experimenting with confused bratty states          mottled and strobed    in the brushed shade          for now    a stood peace
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Aug 25, 2022
Aug 25, 2022 at 7:39 AM UTC
Parasol
I don’t want to go back to the city, I’m learning to forget you And the city we grew together To be something that we are not anymore. I don’t want to see our city Eat alone or wander the crowd I don’t belong there, neither you We were strangers like we’re today. I will never ever go back to the city Where there are sediments of us Wanting to be jolted to a story To pinch our flesh every **** day. I want to be the city, someday I want to be a hopeless lover and Monsoon scent, I want to be the city You'll never forget, the city we lived.
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Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 9:38 AM UTC
City
Age old forests compressed To thick primeval ooze Interred between layers Of sediments fused By time and tonnage To hard papa rock Concealing CRUDE OILS’ Subterranean shock. Shocking in value Escalating with time, Shocking in politics Which equates to a crime, Implications shocking When you stop to see That resource limitations Have diminished quickly. Consider the clout When a fast world of cars Without hydrocarbons Would seize up like stars, Stars, in the sense Of their immovable grace, For a fuel less planet Would IMMOBILIZE this place. Abrupt immobility To bring chaos and mess And the utter lost beauty Of a girl in a dress, And the time and space To smell a good rose Instead brittle chaos Malevolently  posed. Bleak desolation Of the world we hold dear And a massive regression To impoverished fear. Marshalg Looking thru the hour glass 4 July 2011 Only way to deliver this poem is SLAM and with vehemence!!
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Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 10:40 PM UTC
The Great Immobilization
We swim inside the balsamic moon rippling in laughter, from the meeting of our bodies still shimmering in water, touched by life but not by time, weathering. Together, we sail in silver currents circling bends slowly as the river that once carried us empties into an ocean dream, and like sediments too, we distill into  infinity.
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Apr 16, 2024
Apr 16, 2024 at 9:55 PM UTC
Balsamic moon
I want to see you sleeping after tick-tocking like a wind-up clock all day, falling like a taut of rope to the bottom of a canyon to thud down into a pensive pile, spreading your energy out as a silent spirit across the dry river bed, the wind of you whipping up sediments in the vast valleys beneath. I want to bear witness to you catching my eye from across the room cautiously, covering the communion in cadmium lemonade tape, tasty and afraid of being caught at the crime scene. I'll throw you a line and you can come up gasping, glorious and shining in the adolescent sun, pulling in air where water should come. I want to watch you write that paper you're working on. I want to spot you screaming into oblivion, washing over wonder with waxy fingers, grabbing at the truth like five year olds ****** fireflies out of a fleshy, dusk-dipped night with mothers calling out "Come inside!" in loving, eager fright. I want your eyes to glimmer something back at me, meeting me in the cosmos to make the moon, Mercury slinging stardust over his shoulder, flirting with Venus and fighting her smolder, meteorites crashing into each other, creating solar systems in their wake. I want to contemplate you on a flat plane, feeling a frenzy of agitated hands and fluctuating heart rate, fault lines moving crazy, crashing through geologic time to make earthquakes feel human. I want to stare at you saying things that would color me crimson in broad daylight as we breathe out heavy to the ancient incantations of an early umber evening. I want to see you without a pocket mirror attached to my wrist, cutting into my skin, blood purple like lavender iced tea in the summer and veins an undulating blue.
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Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 11:54 PM UTC
artifacts of behavior
I want to see you sleeping after tick-tocking like a wind-up clock all day, falling like a taut of rope to the bottom of a canyon to thud down into a pensive pile, spreading your energy out as a silent spirit across the dry river bed, the wind of you whipping up sediments in the vast valleys beneath. I want to bear witness to you catching my eye from across the room cautiously, covering the communion in cadmium lemonade tape, tasty and afraid of being caught at the crime scene. I'll throw you a line and you can come up gasping, glorious and shining in the adolescent sun, pulling in air where water should come. I want to watch you write that paper you're working on. I want to spot you screaming into oblivion, washing over wonder with waxy fingers, grabbing at the truth like five year olds ****** fireflies out of a fleshy, dusk-dipped night with mothers calling out "Come inside!" in loving, eager fright. I want your eyes to glimmer something back at me, meeting me in the cosmos to make the moon, Mercury slinging stardust over his shoulder, flirting with Venus and fighting her smolder, meteorites crashing into each other, creating solar systems in their wake. I want to contemplate you on a flat plane, feeling a frenzy of agitated hands and fluctuating heart rate, fault lines moving crazy, crashing through geologic time to make earthquakes feel human. I want to stare at you saying things that would color me crimson in broad daylight as we breathe out heavy to the ancient incantations of an early umber evening. I want to see you without a pocket mirror attached to my wrist, cutting into my skin, blood purple like lavender iced tea in the summer and veins an undulating blue.
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41
I am the water moving through the earth The lifeblood of withering roots Stirring ancient sediments To nourish new pursuits I am the language of truths ineffable Encoded in the rhythm of your heart The secret DNA of crystals Informing their mineral art I am the earth moving through the water The tides are my breath's interval Mountains bow to the sea's advance A dance of push and pull I am the darkness hidden in the light The contrast that lets us see The nonexistent difference Between you and me
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Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 12:01 AM UTC
Pulse
The whiteness of the milky way witness your name invariably in the corner of chaos and order Inside fragments of settled sediments There are words that I await to stream from the fountain the base of the veined heart Inside a core to be uncovered Phrases that wish to be whispered the nudges of intentions held back collapsed and clasped in a clap the ribboned truth that fades Tell the tales of the indelible ounces Pronouns and nouns of love and hate Proverbs of the scent of your breath The Jasmine that roasts your tongue Let it's smell infuse my jumbled being Tell the tales of the indelible ounces Taboos and tattoos of eternal love Traffic and tarmacs of the road travelled The lavender that seduces your mind Let it transfuse my animate system Tell the tales of the indelible ounces Songs and secrets of the bright sighs Sums and seams of endurance The cinnamon that spices your life Let your kiss evaporate in my mist mouth Tell tales of the indelible ounces Nuances and notes of our untold story Novices and nemesis of the unnamed race The rose that savours your sweetness Let your hands caress and weaken As you tell the tales in indelible ounces
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Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 6:03 PM UTC
Indelible Ounces