Of all things,
She opened my mouth and built a bridge only we knew existed.
She arranged pillar upon pillar
Of steel beams.
I struggled understanding what
To do with the left over bolts.
She grabbed my hand
Taking turns throwing them on the outskirts of where we stood.
We stood between the beams,
An incline of sights seldomly seen.
Afraid of heights she rarely looked down.
She'd bury her head in my chest
Very rarely she looked down.
Spoken words clustered in steel beams
Without fear of plunging below.

Lost
Is nothing but a partner of mine
Seldomly, I feel needed
While the public pour their sweat on the corridor
I am alone thinking to myself
That I am an Outsider

Pushed
As I am by society
Rejecting the idealogy of mine
Thinking that it is old fashioned
Whilst the world strive for change
Isn't the suggestion a change for the better?
Truly
That I am an Outsider

Rejected
By all degree of mankind
They judge a book by not looking at it's content
But by it's colourful cover
The shallowness of theirs
Truly runs a trivial in my mind
That is why
That I am an Outsider

But I don't care

salvation seldomly succumbs to desperation
solitude is swinging it’s black bat at my ribs.

i must be insane.

all i am is a culmination of
things upon things.

i located meaninglessness
waiting solemnly in aisle twenty three.

for me to fall in love with it,
treat it with care.

allow it to define me.

meaninglessness makes me new for a moment,
serves as a symbol of my normality.

i walk along the road that my colossal brother
has paved in silicon and encrusted with diamonds.

bodies upon bodies are suffocating just below.
expired coal in their eyes, noses and mouths.

not a soul on the surface seems to mind that
silicon and diamonds seldomly serve as salvation.

we are all born sane.

it’s the neon.
it’s the money.
it’s the plastic people.

....

mass megalomania.

Say if all events:
'Past, present, future'
All possible occurrence
Chosen and averted
Are already on the 'map'
Of spacetime
(Interpreted from Relativity, Einstein)

Like infinite numbers of
Vacation spots

and
Time is merely
Our conscious measurement
Of indivisible increments
Of the ever-present
(St. Augustine)

A record of travelling

And if our fourth dimension of time
Is our one dimensional consciousness
Where we can only travel from
Event to event
Dot to dot
In seemingly constant speed
And one direction

As if a railway passenger

In one of the higher dimensions of time and consciousness
Though unfathomable and would seem omnipresent and eternal yet timeless
To us dots in a three dimensional flatlands

As the wayward of them
Had stumbled or spilled
Into our dreams

We would finally be able to
Run wild and free
Greet our past and future
Embrace familiar friends and strangers
In the wildlands
Of a higher dream

And we would not be
Arriving at a dimension of
Love and intuition

But we would inherently
Be beings of love
And intuition

Though we only seldomly
Physically feel them
And never see them

They're part of us
Only visible
Only fathomable
In higher dimension
Of
Spacetime

To have a fling at work is accepting a lot of adrenalin running through your veins. Mostly unrewarding, seldomly paid off and heartbreaking.

'''I thought naked beautiful woman in front of me makes me a good poet
Until I tried writing a poem in front of one
" hips seldomly hilly nor watery
Valley still waterrrrrry
Hey jawbone still showing her dimple
Why make her carry perfect melons God??🤤 "
I never held myself back anymore😂😂🤤🤤
I had to write a real poem with a real pen'''

To see a dwindling tree in the forest
is not to know its bleakest
but to know its earnest

The decay is shown outwardly as despair
by means of deforested ensnare
Forlornness seems its welfare

Externally the forest is declared undeserved eternally
Beauty is unsecured directly
And hope comes seldomly

Whole,
is a forest,
alive as a unit
Spaciousness is created with the tree's covet
Restored are the longing of nutrients
in a sacrificed facet

The beginning of the semester your kicking ***,
The end of the semester your fading fast.
The beginning of the semester you future is bright,
The end of the semester dull dim light,
The beginning of the semester your papers write themselves,
The end of the semester you can barely spell,
The beginning of the semester it easy to get up,
The end of the semester you seldomly show up,
The beginning of the semester the professors the best,
The end of the semester their just like the rest,
The beginning of the semester the classes are fun,
The end of the semester your ready to run.
The beginning of the semester you major ballin',
The end of the semester you eatin' ramen,
The beginning of the semester you can sleep without worrying about anything,
The end of the semester you stay up all night drinking red bull and 5 hour energy,
The beginning of the semester to the day of your last,
I wish you good luck and I hope you pass.

Hardened exterior ever so slightly
More of a facade, a mask.
Sheltered tenderness
Seldomly shines through.
But ask me?
It most certainly is not true.
This feeling, so unnatural
And surprisingly poignant too.
It seeds a knot in my throat.
Powerless.
Weakness.
I will not let them collaborate with me
For I cringe, as this cannot be.
I know,
I should not be this way,
But for now,
I am going to stay.
I do not have the courage
You see,
To face and claim this thing
Called vulnerability.
But one day
Just maybe...
My arms will be open free.

808

So set its Sun in Thee
What Day be dark to me—
What Distance—far—
So I the Ships may see
That touch—how seldomly—
Thy Shore?

Behind her back they call her cold,
But death has taken hold
And they whisper that she hasn't a soul,
But they can't see the huge gaping hole  
Where her heart's supposed to be
She cut it out herself, she's tired of misery
She finally put her heart away
Saving her blood for a worthy day
Son, run as fast you can,
Because she isn't the one for you man
Her fire will burn you alive
Her words hurt worse then a knife
She walls are so **** high
Not even angels fly that high, don't sigh
She may cry herself to sleep at night,
But don't trust her, don't try to make it right
For the battle she fights is one inside
It's with her own demons she's trying so hard to hide
Not even the bravest can handle her at her worst
And fragile egos around her spontaneously burst
No one can ever find a way to her hidden heart
The Minotaur in the labyrinth always tears them apart
So high above the clouds, she only seldomly calls down
When she does they always trick her into coming to the ground
Where they cut into her chest trying to find her heart
Then the monster she becomes rips them all apart
For she's girl as well as a beast

The Knackers-Yard nursing home, rotted and bleak
Where the occupants dribble and seldomly speak
And the medicine is strong while the coffee too weak
Where there's never a care a fuss
There's a trip to the bingo on regular days
And they visit the beaches, the rivers and bays
For the brick-a-brack stalls and the knitting displays
In a rusty mobility bus

Prunella, the wagon of elderly types
With a blanket for every lap
She's a trusty machine of a hideous green
And she's Queen of the Watford Gap

One morning in May when the weather was grim
Miss Margaret Maywither went on a whim
To converse with the orderly, Terrible Tim
And they sat there and shot at the breeze
They nattered and gabbed a selection paces
And tried to put names to familiar faces
But Maggie with plans to discover new places
Relieved the young man of his keys

Prunella, the stolen mobility bus
Where the wings of bingo flap
With a window down and a dressing gown
She's Queen of the Watford Gap

She took to the road with a skeleton crew
Some heart-attack red or a worrying blue
And frequently stopping when tablets were due
They made for a hasty escape
With a foot to the floor and a screaching of tyres
A stopping of traffic and starting of fires
Such fun can be had when a lady retires
In a bus held together with tape

Prunella, the choice of the senior crowd
Each wrinkled lass or chap
There's a lift for the crips and titanium hips
And she's Queen of the Watford Gap

The police gave a chase at a sensible speed
As the Prunella and Margaret rapidly flee'd
When escape is impossible, each one agreed
They would rather be dead than be caught
With a tug of the wheel and a rattle of teeth
With a serpent of tyre smoke writhing beneath
It was probably too late to order a wreath
And the chance of survival was nought

Prunella, on fire and twisted apart
A smouldering pile of scrap
With the wreckage and grease of a dozen police
She's Queen of the Watford Gap

He looked into my eyes, deeply, and seldomly blinking. His body was trembling, as if the very earth herself quaked within his veins. He was breathing heavily; the intake shallow, the output, shallower still. His skin was damp from the nerves, of course, not the heat. For it had barely begun. He reached for my hand and held it tightly and a part of me, for but a moment, enjoyed the fact that he needed me. He clung to me with his face pressed against my chest occasionally emitting a quiet moan. Eventually, I felt his wet warmth soak into my shirt. It hurt me, but I didn't make him move. I stayed still and held him until the panic attack was over, until the wet tears dried. This is how I defined my love; how I make love. Acceptance, compassion, guidance, and a friend.

Half the time
The mirror smiles at me
And the other half
Breaks because of me
Torn between the complexities of me

Imperfection,
Why should such a cruel word exist?

Beautiful,
Why should a word so magnificent be spoken so seldomly?

Why should I,
As a woman compare and contrast?


Why should it matter what size certain body parts are or are not?

Is the heart, the soul, not all you need?

Often deserved,
yet seldomly effective.

It is for the reason we think and think and think,
That the finishing line seems to shrink and shrink and shrink.
Their trophies and our consolation prizes, we always link
To the faces of where it matters not if we stink.

We ***** and *****, but never look;
Only offer our eyes to reference books,
Pay our lives to learn how they sit and smile and dress and cook,
When we could carve out crafts of our own on hippocampus walls to hook.

Charts and charts of sound waves go farther than needed into the ear,
But in this statistic, there are more of those which we are deaf to hear.
Then we wonder, perhaps they will listen if we talk our fear through beer.
What we cannot, we must preach, so in the morning it’ll all be clear.

Putting on several mouths, sincerity seldomly salivates in our tongues.
And all we ever scream about, we let clump and clog in our lungs.
Our voices, we swallow, then verbalize universal dung.
Is that easier than to allow our singularity be hung?

To possess such delicate bones under thick coats of flesh and skin,
One little sting, we crumble as if our framework isn't as fortified as tin.
But sometimes when too stung, we rigidify and our cutis turns lean.
Our pores, too open, that even what doesn't exist, we welcome in.

And so, we stick to our lifelong work of homemade bibles,
And add commandments every time we build stables,
Along with valuables from the places in people’s fables.
Only us can decide to make room for new tables.

Here I am, dancing in the wind
I've got this mental journal in my head
it's filled with lines of sonnets and verse
The only thing I love to write about
is time being turned in reverse
Creativity is like a jungle cat
She comes and goes as she may please
and well, that is that
Creativity is a near ghoul in my mind
she disappears, comes and goes,
lately she hasn't been so kind
Because Creativity is a relentless ghost, she is
She creates and destroys,
envies, and produces
She tosses and turns,
her results are invisibly inconclusive
because she is so fluid-like
She seldomly hides
or at least to others
I call her name,
it's just her game
"Red Rover, Red Rover!" I call to her,
"C'mon, come out, Creativity!"
But during the day she always sleeps
And at night,
well at night,
she plays.

Pondering floats easily on choppy waters
Hope also floats, yet is seldomly seen
It's dragged down by the ships with heavy anchors.

Ripping the pages away from my brain
And out of eyesight
I focus in on the pain
Its waves are soothing
They wipe away the ink stains leaving a clean slate

I DO NOT focus on the memories of every single word
Only the important ones that seldomly occured
Love
Of course
Without which where would I be?
Weak and weary watching these waves wash over me.

But these words are just characters
They die off often and can be replaced
But the memories they brought with them,
The ones of your face...

Are gone.

But your love remained.

As I sit here in the dark
with this blade so very sharp
Only one thought wanders inside
As I contemplate and cry

This blade is my release
It stifles the pain
this is hidden inside
beneath this joyful facade

Deep within myself
I harbor a pool,
A pool of hatred and pain
A place seldomly visited,
Although it is so familiar
It pains me more each time I visit
Opening wounds much deeper than any laceration

This blade,
This friend of mine,
Helps calm the pain inside
The blood that will surface,
Each drop that is lost,
Resembles the pain pouring out

My blood is my pain;
This blade is my friend
This act of self-destruction
Is quite the contrary
This is my cure,
My remedy for the pain

As I sit here in the dark
with this blade so very sharp
This object so perilous
Is really no threat to me

You once asked me why I never left.

"Familiarity" was my answer.

I often answered my phone without looking who was calling me but once I heard your voice, i already knew it was you.
You had the habit of sneaking up on me, but even a couple meters away I already know that you're around. Your scent that smells like coffee and cigarettes with a pinch of lavander lingers through the air and I already knew that you were there.
We used to stay all night on our rooftop just to see the stars I loved. I counted every plane that would pass by and you would count the hours of sleep you get from then on. For a moment there was silence and I knew you fell asleep, even breaths and slighty snoring, but i dont mind. I loved the way your face's calms when you sleep, your lips curve at one side and your eyebrows not scrunched up like always. From then on, i knew i would love to wake up everyday to your view.

After a couple of months you asked me why I was leaving you.

"Familiarity" was my answer.

Days would pass and you seldomly call or text me. The only time i could hear your voice was when I look through our old videos.
Time was never on our side, we suddenly had no time for each other. There were no more time for making out, no more time for some warm hugs, no more time to share how was our day. No more time to say and let the other feel loved.
It rained and there were no stars in the sky that night. I fell asleep on the window seat, watching every raindrop fall on the glass. The next morning when I woke up, it was like you were never there.

A cracked record pirouettes upon its cherry oaked coffin,
Listen closely to the requiem for my ravine.

Can you taste the a’s, the b’s, the c’s,
The spearmint flavor of cool jazz prancing      along       your      tongue.

A eulogy for the mind.
Our memory is not like it used to be.

Light driven through unshattered glass.
Reflecting amongst particles, a burnt hay fulgence.

Before this home, the welcome mat was upside down. An encasement. A confinement.
A rigid sweater, crafted of jagged straw and course hair clung to my skin.

I could never leave. The smell of chemical potpourri coming from that pyrex plate,
leaving the nostrils flaring in metallic bliss.         The taste of frosting.

Same faces entering, different ones departing. Friend on the couch fearing ****,
Me in bed fearing robbery.

A visitor in my room. Masked. Too dark to see.   He apparates from view while I shriek in silence. Alley cats in life threatening quarrel in a deaf man’s yard.

He comes again unwelcomed, I dare this time to challenge.
The drugs are done.    

Heroes are seldomly forgotten.

I seldomly think if I looked like the Zeus statue sitting in  imperial chair. All men and woman desiring me giving one godhead there for being a god is loved by all?
warming hands in crouch like hands under pits. loved by all..,... though if Ayawas is child men but missing zeus body one must be lesser grade only bestowing supreme head... Though still loved by all if one has both he must be a god. for a god is worshipped
Some have only ayawas with out zues beauty therefore, guardian
A god but lesser grade?. Both lives are lived godly though zuesless has to sink to thines abyss more more often. Where so highest is pampered. For he is worshipped.
Look there he is
I could look at him all day

Oh would that I could,
give you my words, I would.
again and again if only I could.
but though at times my words thunder like the hoovs of a stampede
and their echoes rise like the dust that it leaves behind:

and Though at other times when they whisper like the breeze--like the froth atop the ocean
that you travel--They, they
Seldomly come hither when the shepherd whistles.

Why can't she see... the love in me...
Why can't she know... how far I would go...
If only she would try... maybe we could fly...

What does she see... when she looks at me...
What does she know... I wont just go...

How can we try... if she's afraid to fly...

What did I do wrong... to have to wait so long...

Why do I even care... when life is seldomly fair...

You hurt me more then I deserve... how can you be so cruel?

I love you more then you deserve... why am I such a fool?

Like an eagle meant to soar
But locked in a cage
So am I and many like me
Trying to live in this modern age

The world is so fast
And complex it would seem
The simplicity of the past
Is to many of us a dream

I don't mean the past
As in 50 years or so
But I mean farther back
A few hundred years ago

And even back then
In a village we would not be content
But would be like those
That out in the wild, their life spent

They lived in the woods
Not just to survive
But it was in that environment
They truly came to thrive

Going in to town seldomly
Only to buy or trade
Then right back to the wild
Civilization to evade

That time is long gone
But that same spirit in many of us is not
And men feeling like caged eagles
Is what we've now got.

I met you in the hallway
the other day
when you were cleaning.

I've been looking for a meaning,
a reason of some kind
an excuse to make you mind
my existence.

But we seldomly cross each other
and I am not used to the pressure
that comes with talking to
beings as pretty as you.

Today she stands, one person
divided into two
The girl she sees she doesn't know who
For she is bitter calm and cold
And no more a little girl
Her eyes are like bottomless pits
And words seldomly leave her lips.

She has seen a lot, gain a lot
But what she got, she wanted not
She has been exposed to the world and is no more a little girl

The girl she was, the happy one,
The one who laughed and talked
While innocence shone in her eyes
Was gone
Locked inside so she can't be hurt

She now watches and sees, always alert
Never allowing her self to be hurt
She knows what life can do to a person
And understands more than she shows
For she is smart, beautiful and cold
Most of all is is changed and cold

In the stroke of the midnight hour,
From the depth of my heart i felt;
Kindle not a fire you cannot quench,
It is easier to raise the devil than to lay him;
If pouring oil on the fire doesn't quench it,
Then let bygones be bygones.

Still i feel it now,
Necessity and opportunity may make a coward vialant.
Pardoning one offence will encourage many,
Mercy to the devil is cruelty to the people;
Pardoning the bad is injuring the good,
We are not here to think of offenders.
Seldomly seen, soon forgotten, is the society,
But it's better to be a has-been than a never never-was!

I looked, before i leaped,
The resolved mind has no cares;
Bold resolutions is The favourite of providence,
So now it's the time!

They should be punished with no mercy,
For their sins and cruelty.
They are the who,
Once talked of, now forgotten!
Behind whose smiles daggers were hidden,
And whose blood couldn't be washed with blood!
The plunders,
The massacres,
The murders,
The screams;
They are supposed to be gone,
And not forgotten!

Black will take no other hue,
So does white!

beauty is a selfless being,
she seldomly sees herself such, wondering what the world must think, she traps herself in her books reading and writing keeps her hooked.

The Beast does paces back and forth in his castle.
He has locked himself in a creature in a cage or if the world seen him they would laugh in his face or be frightened and run away.
He keeps himself hidden.
He wasn't always an ugly Beast.

There was a witch she cursed him
A magical Rose this truth the fact that you must find true love
Before the last petal or he will be be trapped as an ugly beast for all eternity..

He thinks to himself how could it be how will she fall in love with me I'm just an ugly beast she'll be fearful of me and run the other way
Beauty ..

Hearts are not something to be taken lightly.
According to life's essential need.
Anything else would be considered making noise.
Hearts are like mid sized drums. fragile in the way that they beat.
Lingering throbs, echoing intensely.
Seldomly, A snare dropped off key, played softly.
Filling the space of the smallest thought.
Realizing that mistakes can and will occur.
Something not to be taken lightly.
The fragile pop of the smallest thread.
Over thought in motion.
Continuing to move about.
Balanced by the placement of steady hands.
Regaining composure.
A new note soulfully played in cadence with another.
Realizing that there is no such thing as control when it comes to matters of the heart.
A constant rhythm that goes misunderstood until it meets a set of ears to willingly listen.
A Definitive purpose. Finding bliss in filling the gaps of another note.
Without embarrassment, without shame to be themselves.
Tirelessly in unison.
The throb of steady hearts.
This was life being lived to the fullest.
This was the first time I truly heard music at it's finest.
It was never the steady pace of the drum,
But everything that took place around the pop.
Only to amplify as I grew older

It's a seldomly funny story
You went toe to toe
With me, perceiving me as a foe
But your efforts turned out like the desolate terrain below
Barren and forgotten
All this brovado
But you couldn't accumulate a following like Demi Lovato
I'm going in Stacatto
You're still out of tune
It gets deeper in June
In my eyes it's always Noon
I biffercate the time of day
But I act the same
I'm a beast people attempt to tame
But they just blame
I saw them before they came
You can be won over and think I'm lame
But I don't need to worry
I got my own story
I wish people would stop trying to plagiarize
It shouldn't take a lawsuit for them to realize
It's not right
These minds aren't as bright
As they tell themselves
They barely know themselves
I get it, it's easy to lose yourself
Just don't take it out on me
I'm simply existing
Finding my own way to the brick
Without being a huge *****
You think you know it all but you don't know a lick
I try to stay silent and slick
You come up with retorts and insults quick
But it doesn't make me upset or sick
I just laugh
I've seen this over and over again
Rinse and repeat
Not quite the the deja vu I wanted
The entertainment factor wears off fast
I knew it wouldn't last.