Admirable, Blissful, Bewildered, Curious, Capable, Compassionate, Determined, Daring, Delighted, Dazzling, Eagar, Edgy, Enlightening Enthusiastic, Elegant, Fabulous, Fantastic, Forgiving, Fictitious, Fancy, Feminist, Glamourous, Gorgeous, Glowing, Guarded, Greatful, Generous, Gloomy, Happy, Honest, Hopeful, Humourous, Humble, Humane, Heartiest, Heavenly, Imaginative, Interesting, Inspiring, Intellegent, Incredible, Impressive, Important, Indecisive, Invisible, Jinxed, Joyous, Judicious, Justified, Jobless, Jiggish, Jimp, Jittery, Jazzy, Jaunty, Kindhearted, Keen, Knowledgable, Kiddish, Knavish, Knockout, Kempt, Kween, Kin, Kittens, Kinder, Lazy, Luxurious, Lively, Loyal, Limit, Laminated, Lawless, Lightning, Lushious, Luminous, Lovesick, Logical, Modest, Marvelous, Motivated, Music, Momentous, Mindful, Magical, Memories, Merciful, Mellow, Mesmerizing, Malicious, Mannered, Noble, Nervous, Night, Naive, Noted, Natural, Nifty, Nurturing, Never-ending, Noteworthy, Neglected, Narnia, Native, Number 1, ***, Openhearted, O Canada, Obviously, Obidient, Obsessions, Open-minded, Oriented, O.K., Observing, OUT-OF-THIS-WORLD, Omnicient, Outshining, Obliged, Obsticles, Passionate, Personally, Poetry, Picture-Perfect, Positivity, Pulse, Painful, Physic, Power, Protagnist, People-Person, Pros, and Cons, Purity, Purpose, Pleasant, Pieces, Quiet, Quality, Quick, Quoted, Queen, Quirky, Quintessentially, Quest, Quick-Minded, Questionable, Quarter, Quiver, Quiddity, Quiescent, Qui vive, Quip, Quantity, Ravishing, Rapport, Reliving, Reassuring, Rebal, Rainbows, Reckless, Relaxing, Respect, Remedy, Regrets, Right, Relatable, Reliable, Rad, Ready, Responsible, Rainy days, Sagacious, Salutary, Sassy, Secure, Self-assured, Self-reliant, Self-confident, Self-disciplined, Selfless, Sensational, Sensitive, Stars, Shawn Mendes, Sénorita, Sentimental, Set, Serene, Seamless, Significant, Sightly, Trustworthy, Talented, Tender-hearted, Thriving, Thankful, Titanic, Touché, Touchy, Transparent, True, True-blue, Traveller, Transpicuous, Titillating, Timeless,Tidy, Teasing, Tender, Terrific, Thorough, Thrilling, Unarguable, Ultimate, Undefining, Under-the-weather, Unalloyed, Unassuming, Uncommon, Understandable, Undivided, Unique, Unlimited, Unstoppable, Uplifting, Upbeat, Uber, Unconvensional, Uhuh, Unbelieveable, Under control, Unquestionable, Utter amazment, Valiant, Valuable, Valid, Veridical, Valiant, Vibrant, Vigorous, Vigilant, Victorious, Visions, Vivid, Voluptuous, Vulnerary, Vulnerable, Venust, Veracious, Vestal, Violen, Vroom Vroom, Victory, Vows, Wake me up, Wise, Welsome, Well-behaved, Welcoming, Well-grounded, Woke, Whimsical, Whistler, Wholesome, Wired, Witty, Wondrous, Whilst, Winter, Wonderful, Wide-Awake, Walk it like I take it, ****-bang, Wishful, Wellness, Worth it, World-Class, Xo, Yolo, Zero

It is over. What is over?
  Nay, how much is over truly!--
Harvest days we toiled to sow for;
  Now the sheaves are gathered newly,
  Now the wheat is garnered duly.

It is finished. What is finished?
  Much is finished known or unknown:
Lives are finished; time diminished;
  Was the fallow field left unsown?
  Will these buds be always unblown?

It suffices. What suffices?
  All suffices reckoned rightly:
Spring shall bloom where now the ice is,
  Roses make the bramble sightly,
  And the quickening sun shine brightly,
  And the latter wind blow lightly,
And my garden teem with spices.

Watch me as I fall from here
I do not wish to speak of such misfortunes
unfortunately other options have quickly began shortening
their obvious attempt for what can be logical decision
such incision with a knife also a master of the fiddle
fear me not the sky is lightened
now the dark began to set
How I wish it were to echo,
as the moon was put to bed

Yet my life has become  ill gotten,
a thorn of crown upon my head,
yet my troubles seem so meager
then those of mice unlike us men
Gently weep into the silence
go forth brother hear your cry
may the sightly wind be with you
guide it deep into the sky
cause of thunder and then lighting
limit those who fear the sound
hear them weeping at the door step
as if the cat had made a sound

from the plains drawings of smudging hands
and the palms of warriors
whose caves glittered in symbolic otherlands
flowing into yesteryears with shifting tones
abstracting melodies awry
in the songs of language growing,
from the blood of worldly pains
and passionscapes of grounded glees
which surge in transtemporal veins,

to the gifting of a poem;

cosmic movements
ever novel
in the constant flux of  fleshy presence
follow us in meaning—
every dot and cursive plane,
carries more than caligraphic feeling
beneath the graphing of our patient, formal, brainy gestures
(often blind to fools in Spring and better fates
of wholly kissing lovers over flower-oaths)
whose blindness in such sightly feeling,
graph so many moments black:
syntax, manner, unformed poems of wisdom’s grandeur;
stifled in the academic dust.

9:30 pm
above: praise gone awry. 12:52 pm
still, this universe expresses its possibility
through this minute verbia;
prolix trivia swinging by
the inquiries of existential mania
and the hope of solid, open value.

1:29 am

Enamoured by sightly existence
clinging to every glimpse
though nearly impossible to track
she was lost amongst a crowd of infinity

So captivated my mind races to the future flow of the current of bodies to where one would be in step and time to pace rhythm and flow and know ones whereabouts in premonition

Where my meditations meet reality I've dreamt love into existence even if only one sided her smile made me think otherwise

Who's to say that the love I found within just a momentary lapse in endlessness isn't an energy that persist through the age of ages


and feel as if they were made for you and you in turn for their moment of hope and possibly

one could find the cure to all sickness experienced

Everything is gnawing like what you gnawed on last night,
Salmonella, Desdemona, E. coli', which plight.
Wanting to exhale yet holding on to breath,
diaphragms help gag and heave but no relief is let.

rib cage throat and mouth expand.
but nothing works quit like fingered hands.
sightly stroking epiglottil muscle.
tightly choking back the particles
.
to live to release
to mutually be
just go back to sleep
no time for sick bees

cant enjoy the flowers
while you sit in the honey.

As far as I can remember you’ve RAN my life,

From my father and mother and also Ex-wife,

We all have been your worthless slave,

Days we refused are the days we craved,

Desolation and destruction in your wake,

I’ve offered you my useless life to take,

As I fail to get my life on track,

I just shoot bigger loads of twack,

I’m as lost as the orphan boy in the woods,

I’m not remembered for doing much good,

Only wrongs and misplaced hate,

Had me wander into my fate,

I blame them all but not once me,

I blame them all one, two, and three,

So as I pointed out all their flaws,

I became immersed by your powerful jaws,

Your claws are sharp, long and pointy,

So where’s the right path can you please point me?

My direction is sporadic as my thoughts,

I knows there’s this one thing that I’ve been taught,

And that is never show weakness not in this game,

Or you may end up killed by what’s his name,

He burned you badly beyond repair,

Because you tread with little care,

I get that you were naïve,

But in my words you should believe,

I’ve been down this road my whole life through,

I beg that you won’t do these things that I do!,

I had a soul as my Fathers son,

And as my mothers youngest one,

I’ve watched these paths taken lightly,

The scenes I’ve seen aren’t all that sightly,

I’ve been young and as I grow old,

I started to learn to do as I’m told,

For if I hear those words nye,  

Soon I’ll be the one to die!,

Im so lost, alone, and misunderstood,

Sorrily the high I get just isn’t that good!,

Good enough I think inside,

But it could be better if only I tried,

Tears and blood oh I have tasted,

But its nothing to the years I've seemingly wasted!

a roadtrip to somewhere,
just so we could watch a meteor shower.

we didn't even know exactly where to go,
only that we wanted to watch the shooting stars without the city's glow.

at first adrenaline filled our somber and tired selves;
we were all fueled with the idea of seeing something magical at twelve.

then came the rush of being lost in lonely, secluded roads.
suddenly we realized, this trip, to our parents we should've told.

whose is that car parked at the other side of the highway?
were they here even before we stopped to look at the meteors fall away?
should we flee or should we stay?
i don't want this to be our last day.

oh god please help us
we're running out of gas

and just as we are consumed with panic,
and fear of strangers in places, dark and exotic
we drive back to the city,
where the people are awake and much less creepy.

when the lamposts became brighter,
and the surroundings no longer sinister,
where the stars we so longed for became much hazier,
we simply laughed at our cowardice,
and at our overly-hightened suspiciousness.

as dull, yet terrifying the world can be,
even with rare astronomical phenomenas that are oh so sightly,
adventures are really, no less scary.
yet everything can still feel mesmerizing,
and even reassuring,
so long as you are able to find just the right company.

What is it about these tired, melancholy streets
That has you all hidden in your little houses?

My feet tread one over another and yet the only
Sound is the echo of my footsteps. Where are the other bodies?

I see no lovers holding tightly, hands in hands and arms
Intertwined as if the cold wind could pull them apart.

I saw you peek from the beat up little house, I was
Enjoying a conversation with your father. Loud laughs resonate.

I saw you peering through the trails of cigarette smoke and
Tattered blankets which keep you hidden in the shack.

Those blankets, much like when I saw you. Tattered and
Not so sightly. Worn by age and smoke. Sickly and stained.

Alas, my dog runs up the field and there is not a soul in sight;
The osprey have left their perch on the cellular tower.

Where are your huddled little bodies, little town?
The winter has not reached its age to have created anxiety.

The anxiety that forces them from their homes
In an earnest search for the sun's warm rays.

Maiden in the ashes
Robed in silk
Robbed of milk
No mark on your tender skin
No sign of turmoil within
The coal does not yet scorch your soul
...
You walk your delicate path
Bearing the sightly, brightly beaten cut bloom of spring
Luscious petals not yet knowing
They will drop from the stem
No seeds to plant, and not her fault
the only water here tainted with salt
And the ground here is hard, turned up in its roots
And the soft garden bed tamped down by boots
Do you know the path you tread does not want you?
Do you not yet feel the cut of the stone or burning of the coal to your sole?
Or does this black earth need your bloodstained steps as much as you need to bleed them
Is it possible for one woman's blood to nourish this dead soil back to life?
And one woman's love to seed them

She looked so sweet but she had black eyes
That charming little smile was surprisingly sly
An innocent act she continued to play
There was never a rumor, for there was nothing to say
She constantly, craftily, stole the upper hand
Guilefully cunning, appearing offhand
Triumphant she was when her deception succeeded
Prancing away from the hate that she seeded
Her friends were like puppets, their fate she controlled
A friend to no end, when she spoke she cajoled
She listened wide-eyed, and blinked in surprise
She was begged to help, and begged to chastise
So she fixed the stories in her own way
Discarding the remnants, displayed to decay
Contented and sprightly she talked very lightly
So sweetly and sightly she left ever brightly.

And now you know of the girl with black eyes
With that charming smile that's ever so sly
So don't be fooled by her false disposition
Otherwise, you will find
                                      yourself
                                                in a most
                                                            unfortunate
                                                                           position.

That which I pay for, dearly -
The mattress beneath me is imagined to be your chest.
You would cradle me, the way I feel cradled by your gaze.

That which I pay for, dearly -
The lack of holy fiber, which strain to kiss my bones.
It is these very bones - how they ache.
A deep burn, down to the charred marrow.

That which I pay for, dearly -
I pain to hear your voice.
I fear it is warped by the stale heat within my brain.
Its echoes vibrating within the damp cave of my memory -
The pitch now sharp, I suspect.
It rings, a ghostly bellow - to that I cling.

That which I pay for, dearly -
Draw the line in wet concrete.
I fill it with pitch black ink when dry.
It is a line I dare not cross.

This blue pool ripples after the sporadic thumps of my heart.
I bottle it.
Fill the blue glass with beads and pearls - an effort to make this ugly thing sightly.
But it is bottled, I swear.

That which I pay for, dearly.

The neon nights did shine again,
At the place of Tokyo, really bright.
The girls did gleam with beautiful clothes,
The guys did glow with aflame fashion.

There were many mazes to be found at midnight,
In the city streets, sightly here.
''Midnight Pretenders'' was on tonight,
Breezing and blooming in the bright streets.

The pinky pearly view paced as
Raindrops as diamonds dancing in lights,
And fell fairly upon the shoes
Of gleamy girls glowing and adorned
With ribbons red and rosy hues.

Nobody at night slept, at the afternoon
Everyone woke up again after
Days of dozing off, and at dawn
They went away, towards their beds.

You would seem
So far away,
So old and gray
From me astray
Estranged in nightly,
Out of sightly
Slightly differing decay
Complacent discontent
Is swept
Under delusions
Wanting more,
What more perfections,
Burning questions
Could you possibly
Need answers for?
Is no
Togetherness
Of us
Enough to turn our bones
To dust
What must
Befall
Before it’s just
All future ideation
Hushed

Stop and look around
Hold the bullet in your hand
Mull over the emotion
That fills you as you stand
Blood rushes up, down, pumps
And now you're all set
Body like a tree trunk
Feel the weird funk

Coming on and taking over
No survivors, no leftovers
Look left and then turn right
Sit down and take flight

Like the green leaves
Off the mighty oak
Falling up instead of down
Float up and let your body soak
In the light of the bright sightly
Glorious Sun from above
Taking blood lightly
Spilled and vacuumed up

My friend tells me he gave up on his girl because she got lazy and smoked crazy dope too much and got sightly fat and got too much of a barrel of bombs that shouldn’t be around no more, throw her over the bridge, he gets fit and I get drunk and get lost in the streets and this little belly on me from something is soft and mean, good night I never hear in this house, crumbs on the table, crumbs and maybe mice- something- will feed from my food crumbs in the black night.

***** floor and the carpet in my bedroom stinks and it feels rough and I don’t have that girl to clean up for me, and no food to cook, I cook something and it tastes good, I’m a good cook, I should have been a cook.

I should have been something good in life but laziness takes over and ambition is nowhere to be found- how it felt to have you around once not eating for two days and you gave me your food, your soul, It made me fall for you more in some room that we will never touch again.

I have sought answers to the query what makes a person perfectly sightly, yet have not I found it.

Is it in the curl of his hair, or the warmth in her stare?
The touch of her skin as she lays bare?

Or is it in the hue of his eyes - deep sea blue? Or the beating of her heart, as if on cue?

Is it in the lines of his jaw, or that perfectly white teeth? The blush on her cheeks or the rise of her chest as she breathes?

I know not if it is in the grace of her gait, nor if it is her weight. Or his broad shoulders or the size of his feet.

Is it in the lobes of his ear? Or her view in rear? Is it in the curves of her waist, or his abdomenals like hills? The complexion of his arms? Or her hug that warms?

Is beauty in the arch of her back or the contour of her *******? Or his suit and tie and his Sunday's best?

Does it have anything to do with the fragrance he wears - warm and woody? Or is it in her pair of sneakers and a hoodie?

Can it be found in the protrusion of her clavicles or the density of his brows? Or in the depth of his voice? The color of her toes?

Is it in the ball that he plays or the gentleness of her face? Ah! How can someone be so angelic in demeanor?

     It isn't clear to me if splendor in countenance can really be found. Should not it rather be felt? Or should it be perceived through sight?

     One is beautiful because people say she is. But beauty could be forfeited at the thought of the beholder that she isn't.

     Does one tell himself that he is as Adonis in loveliness when he looks in the mirror? Or does he say he is like Hephaestus in visage?

     Is beauty defined in the standard: dark hair, appealing stare;
aligned teeth, sharp nose;
tan skin, shaved brows;
waxed legs, hefty breast;
mild touch, sweet caress;
cheeks sans freckles, six feet tall;
flamboyant voice, and foxy lips?
What about molls and vagrant rips?

     To say one is grotesque - is not it just in your perspective? And to say one is gorgeous - what is your basis?

Is it her beautiful locks? --but she is a ****--
Or the emerald windows of his soul? --but he is a criminal--
Does beauty still nest on them?

     I say the efficacy to arouse fascination is not found in the facade of a person, rather found somewhere more profound.

     To put beauty in the way that it is in the eyes of the beholder is quite narcissistic, but let people fancy you not for the sightliness of your face, but the goodness of your soul, though it is heir to sin; the mercy in your eyes, not its color; the care in your touch, not its balminess. Because the only thing that is undying and immortal is not your cast but the heart.

To a man
That inspired many
And left swinging
A bolted flaming gate

I took something from you
A thing I cannot name
Though it rests inside of me
I don't know where to rest
Or where to be

Too long have these hours past
As my minds been moving fast
I type to an unseen crowd
Swallowed and in deep dark wallow

A Dark night outside trickles
As well as fiendishly tickles
The fiendish crazed eyes
That never seem to abide

Could it be
That you were the one
I was destined to travel with
Fast and on the run?

No, no, no...
This can't be
There's another task
I was meant to do
Before I met
This lovely flowing doe

Oh the last ray of the shining sun
Left me feeling naked and alone
A child crying loudly in the carnival
Made me feel so naive and so cold

A refugee I became
In a lone bar far past two
I left there nightly
With a sightly cross hair
On a heart I never chased to know

But the temples that many pray at
Are crumbling fast
Because a God they thought they knew
Tested time
And did not last

I dissolve into time
Where parents that bore me
Say they no longer know me

They'll blame the fact
On quick changing images
On absolute divinity
And with frosty smiles
That were traveled lovingly

I ask myself yet I know not myself
So I expect no comforting answer
As Rimbaud
And all the rest
Did the quite the same feat

Lo' I am answered
With oh but a horrifying answer
From a source unseen and unknown
For the life we struggle through
Is a search
For a ball
In white snow

Inspired by the dead
By words that seem oh so real
And a toiling woman glances as she rises
Dressed so serenely
In touched' abnormalities

red ..no white.. no golden blue
the moon so stood for all to view
in my face and shining bright
the joy.. the glow a true delight

The moon did shine a glow so pure
my eyes did see a sight amore
I wanted more but sad to say
the moon did hide for the day

that night I looked and no did see
no moon no stars no sightly sea
so maybe when i look again
I,ll see that moon .a heaven sent

do not muse yourself with ideas that i no longer think of you
do not muse yourself with ideas that i do
the boys i kiss don't taste like you,
the boys i kiss don't feel you
the boys i kiss do not take me upstairs

i realize i spend time staring at one who mimics you
only sightly though,
only barely

do not dream that this is harder on me than you
nor that this is harder on you than me
i know i am an absence in your bed,
at your dinner table,
in the curve of your body when you lie on your side

do not worry, i am not dreaming of you
do not worry, i am dreaming of you

i do not want you,
i will want you.

november.12.2013
*1:42 P.M.

ten strange hands embodied by time
sands of dearth scattered like rhymes
how we fit so snugly yet exist individually
reality mouth the vitality of stupidity
and as the frothy shores
white titanium stones in course
a blood hound testing salt ridden breeze
as our existence wanders in vulnerability
a lovely delight
a sightly recite
systematically conquering our feelings
taught to stifle as causality
sea shells coarse
intricate invasions of aristocracy
bureaucracy everlasting integrity
cluster **** to drown in such blinded strife
our fabric is breathe truly
a paradox in hindsight

spiraling
spinning
out of control
everything mute
everything blinded
colors swarming
like bees to their hives
head pounding
to the beat of an unheard drum
the colors turn black
the mutes turn loud
the blinded turn sightly
spiraling
spinning
out of control
head slowing down
body slowing down
only the color black
and no more sound

A nightly muse
Of thoughts diffuse
A thoughtless mind
With thoughts unkind,
A rhyme's plea
Beckoning to be,
A poet's mind
Her words unbind,
Far un sightly
Pained and slightly
Chaotic, inter-weaved
Labyrinthine and unseamed...
Her thoughts' stream,
A labored possession
Of loved recollections,
An urging tempt
To write unkempt
And sing untamed
Before the morrow
Bury thy sorrow,
In paper clean
Ink, ink blots
Joining scattered dots
Of unleashed thoughts
Across paper lays
Her scattered brain
All efforts vain
Seeming to be
Before trauma passes
Brought back sane
Weighing her losses
Weighing her gains
Poetic muse, that
Worded rather well
Like some stranger
She hath read
That signed below
Name familiar so
It dawned upon
This lady, wrong
Whenever did she
Write that song?
Which hers is
Now to call
'Tis dawn's dew
Awakening a new
Knowing of self
Last night's fire
Burned through those
Sheets of tire
Sudden smiles befriend
An unknowing visage
That must be
That must be
That is me
Spoke her mirage...

-Aayushi

If you try to hold sand too tightly,
It slips through your fingers,
Love isn't too sightly,
It poisons and it lingers.

Even a brave lion in a cave,
Will starve and fall If it doesn't change,
From that fate, love can save,
But without, is far more strange.

The best time to blossom is now,
The old idiom man said,
Trees planted in the past don't grow,
And down my long path I'm led.

Every story and poem ever told,
Whisper me meaning and truth,
And although touching souls is gold,
I've got to lift up my youth.

I lie in an orange field of green grass,
Emotions overcome by colour,
And this freedom might be my last,
I don't want this busy world any fuller.

Music and nature is enough,
Oh forest in love's shade,
Take these blue feelings away.

How many Dolls might be in the Valley?

Can you breath heavenly still
    so I can count top your holy hill?
It's just me come sightly so  
    working Charity back and fro
    my true badge of rite
Stitched across a tongue's bite
    a neighbor's door
    and between insults of a *****.
What vile eyes you say,
    but hey, don't fret, fear nor fray
    for whatever reason we surely
Can sew a new button for Suri's
    innocent nose and dust
    off the corruption to prove
    that I never wished to move.

We make quiet love inside your basement
Just out of earshot of your sleeping mother,
I wonder if for the first time I have found forever,
Or if I should just add you to my list of lovers.
But there is something about the way you hold me,
Subtle safety like the walls of New York City
With both minds mutually as hideous as the other,
Heaven knows I do not need your pity.
We talk about leaving this hick town,
Getting married and moving to a different coast,
But it is nothing more than a pretty dream,
A mental escape from the things we fear the most.
Tomorrow morning everything changes,
Tomorrow morning life goes on as we do.
Tomorrow night you will find someone else,
But for the now please just pull me through.
Nothing ever stays the same in this town,
And not a single thing ever changes.
There is no such thing as ever after here,
We are eternally rats inside of our cages.
But beside you is an incomphrensible sightly sweetness,
I can not explain the way it makes me feel.
And just like the world spins at the hand of Jesus,
We are spinning like a wheel,
We will keep spinning like a wheel.

I looked in the mirror more than 10 times today
Fortunately i was still more or less the same.
I took a breath
"You are not ugly. You are not disfigured."
The voices have soon since been silenced by my persistence and repeated statement
"You look pretty just believe it."

Taking you back
Back to a time when time was not time
but merely seconds and hours
And lets not forget minutes
When the only reason i tracked it
Was so i could estimate how long it took
The blade to slide across my skin
The skin to open like flesh off of a peach
The blood to seep up to the surface and drip
The dripping to stop and that crimson substance to dry

Bringing you back to the present
When i track time so i know how long i can lie to myself for
Lie to myself before the real me shows up
Before the ugly rears its sightly face

In my head there's a masquerade ball
The masks are not fancy and embroidered
The masks are simply smiling faces
Laughing faces
Any and every face that to me
Is beautiful
However underneath them is the same
'Hunchback of Notre dame' situation facially and otherwise

Remember that time when you thought you were ugly
If ever you did
But someone made you beautiful
Forever that is

I still wait for that moment like a widowing wife waiting
Waiting to hear that her lover isn't gone forever.

the sky paints a familiar purple
a lilac trailing in the form of clouds
its vivid reflection dancing upon your skin
and your fingertips, and mine,
and the corners of your lips.

sometimes, it's in the bruises on your knuckles
or the cold blueberries on somber evenings
the way lavenders adorn your long dark hair.
windswept yet sightly.
and your darling voice would lull me to sleep
and send my soul alight.

but time and again,
its the middle ground for the head and the heart
the brief moment between sunset and evenings
the mauve that says i love you without need for words.

assurance and certainty placed among the berried table
the courage to wade in it's deepest depths.
avert your gaze skyward and see
even the vibrant heavens can be
a place where you can lay your soul to rest.