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Satsih Verma Oct 2016
It was a marathon race of
timeline. The days are bound and shot.
How do I come to you to express
my grief of the country
in tumult!

In shouting and screaming,
there was no magic wand to invoke
peace. Your mouth opens
and shuts like the shell valves. The
scollops― words, swim in
sea of burials.

The seriality was unconscionable.
It falls short of a stroke.
The blood splits. A riot erupts
to wet the lips of curved razor.
The sun retreats, to let
the stars find their sky.
Walker Nov 2020
It sickens me to think so much of you.
From dusk till dawn,
in my most surreal moments and most lucid dreams,
why must your presence linger?
It is maddening- unbearable! You, who wonder post yonder,
who sings to the birds and sky
- twisted cretins of mystery and seriality, mythical sirens of sea and ocean-
leave my wretched, scarred heart be.

For what do you do - to call upon such wrothful an affliction,
that it may strike me dizzy and unaware?
You, unassuming and smiling sins of lust and allure,
who dance upon the shore so close yet far,
whose wistful voices shatter blissful serenity
to bring about turbulent motions of loss and devotion,
who pierce the seven layers of hide and bronze and strike,
truest at my heart- how, how, how!

Leave me be,
untainted breaths of skin and laughter,
which swings upon the nightshade fields with the lands before,
to suffer this solitude alone.
Your love, a wine so tasteful, is not mine to pour,
so leave me addicted- bitter forever more-
to drift within melancholic memories of oceans, depth unfathomable,
listless and lost- in wavering arted eyes…

Yet you linger
- so soft a chocolate, so sweet a voice-
tantalizing yet unobtainable. Your presence, it bares!
Like Atlas, how great a burden you carry, warm wisps ephemeral
- in a heart ****** and cold- a beacon!
to that which remains, for those bitten by arctic chill,
and for that which lingers,
driven and ever thrilled.

And how it shivers-
the phantoms of your touch, the quivers of your tears, the rhythms of your heart!
Begone, I beg! No more, no more I beg!
Prisoner I am to you, to you and your wretched kind,
so torture me no more!
A wolf, a pup, a vagabond, a priest
- I be what you command! No more,
my mistresses of loves lost and found, times far and before!
I beg, no more!

I worship, I pray
- I cherish the lands your feet kiss and tread.
I write, I praise!
- Your diluted presence, your enchanting call!
No more, no more!  Death, be my savior!
Save this mind- tyranted by heart, let it be no more!
I break, I Break! I break and shatter!
And diamond eyes (!) sit upon their thrones horizon forward yonder!

Safety, save me-
let me love and lose and ponder no more!
Poisoned presence!
Poisoned love, begone!
Fractured heart, Death be my savior
- let love haunted and torture,
let Love hunt no more!
Oh love, bitter love, torture me no more!
Love comes easy, but rarely is its path pleasant and, while we might not always have it returned in kind, is not love the greatest form of tortured beauty?
Qualyxian Quest Feb 2023
Ordinary boredom
Eat. Sleep. Talk on the phone.
She's not here.
A lot of time alone

I do have a need for Marvels at times
And I'm puzzled by coincidence
Black birds soar above me
Basketball in the park

The indigenous are our ghosts
California Coast
She's the One! I love the most
Hopes and prayers for Mark

Poetry is good insane
I ride the Downbound Train
The Fortress of Solitude, Lois Lane
My need for the Unknown

                      Seriality?

— The End —