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Bryce Aug 2018
A normal kind of guy
Just the guy
No cosmologist
Sans Christian
******* the droplet suns
Distant in the blackened sky

Gotta 'and'er some
The bristled gristle
The cryogenic iris
Steel teeth gnashing
Right-toe left
Ardent in an autobiography

Good man
Soft man

Locomoted his GMC
to the Sea
Thought maybe
With precise aim he
could undertow away
paradise.

No pick-me-ups
In copper-channels
That Ionized the pick-up-truck
With archaea iron
that ugly duck
Reminiscent of the man
In all but--

A castaway
Stowaway
The man who never hesitates
Bop upon the interstate
Lost within
concritical maze

Shoring up
Going home
Giving up
Turned to stone
Marble chin
Solumn grin
Chlidren sing
Seeking wings
How'd he know
Where to go
Will he see
What it means?

He's the guy
The one with the lollipop lap
Licking the syrup off the lip
Of a sweet polished sapphire
Gin
And the kids
My god
They think he
ODYSSEUS
And his dog not yet
Dead but depressive in the gloom
Howling into the midnight grass
And the creatures that stalk
With their ******* youth

Soon their weight will hit the deck
And like a noose,
Break the joints
The planks of which would stress
And bend his eyes upon his head.

God willing
Should he be exhumed
His energies excape to the river
And float,
Penultimate,
into the sea.
Jordan stenberg Jan 2013
i walk by in a solumn state of mind.

I realize what i have missed in my lifetime."

The heart can do strange things to a man love can change you."

i know i have had to fight my inner demons not change i have fought it off with scraps and a fist.

Can a man who does not care what people think about him what his actions are.

Considering his love has not been returned will she take in consdieration that he would take a bullet for her.


The fact that he is a great friend just a misunderstood fellow who could fit in a  indy film with a crew of rejects.

As he hits the end of the road he sees her alone realizing walking away from the hearts true feelings."

The man walks back and starts to run into the battle field of war the bullet hits him and his inner demons say any last words.

The man simply replys i won"t let you control me bleeding and all he charges them with his hearts desire and when the dust settled."

he stood in the hearts battlefied full of broken bodys and failures of his past. As he is walking back for her he"s *****  and injured.

Has peace finally come to him it has no more battles,no fighting demons  as he reaches for her the hand into the world he once knew crashed.
His bitter rage he smashes the wall freeing it but the battle that was over had hit them. Egos clashing, , arguing ,backstabbing but people were happy. Not for long though   as people felt the bitterness the man had gone through as he finally finds her she is there for him. His happyness was there the whole time but doesn"t like to reveal to much.  he realizes melancholy seconds later equals to succession.
Bryce May 2019
Standing upon these novel halls
The man, waiting
Seeks temperance and a kindness from God

He says,

"Give to me the gift of your knowledge and I will smite your enemy--rebuild the garden and replace those fruits long lost"

And his request echoes impotent through a voiceless hall

He cries, wails, churns and smashes
his dirtied knuckles on the walls

He yells, buckles, whines and sputters
Choked and lost in miserable,

The flanking rooms locked and dark
With constant voicing, gently call

"Who upon ye has the gall,
to name me Father"

And he is quiet.

------

In Moscow the Siberian fall grips the air
A wandering Dostoyevsky speaks in exhalations to the crack of gunshot in the dawn

A brief tightening of callous rope around his dry poetic throat

And at once his words sought to cull
the exquisite embers of furious retort

And he is silent.

----

The kindness of a failing city-state
Conveyed on the precipice of a bay
Jack teethed his frantic dharmas
And said to Them,

"What terminus of road
Would ever serve my unwinding soul?"

And as his gut trembled a final thought,
His eyes turned skyward, above the clouds

Where it was silent.

----

Dorigen, repenting the patient shores of tranquil sea
Accusing the chalk of its blackened soul
Traces the subtle dance of gulls
As their drowning feathers face these ageless things
whysper'd deep upon the winds

And she is Silent.

---

Basho, with a wanderer's grin
In solumn steps between the grains
Shades the path of unfamiliar road
And every poem steeped within

Where clouds are soft, where crickets sing
Past warbling stream with cadence grim
The Dao, leading ever onward

Says to him,

"Like water, do I rain."

---

Milton, his misted eyes
No light to guide their failed sight
Trace an ancient knowing glance
To Crown, his subtle circumstance

No soul in life
could see the might
Who gave this man his funeral rites

And when his words fall deaf at last
On his forgotten time and wishful past

He will stare deep into an inky void
And see
The stars for what they are:

Light, dispersed between the dark.

---

In the waning tide of Cresent lune
Twilight casts a gentle hue
Below the hill the city glows
The Palatine, gold and new

The ides, with consequence they come
And with them carry the will be done
Augustus' silent retinue of one
Notes a sky of draining sun

For Rome claws at all of Gaia's *******
And from sea to mount and desert dune
Ancient Africa, nascent Gaul
To Rome, will they forever fall

In darkness, the Palatine shadow loomed
Over web of flame-lit avenue

For the roads all led to Rome that night
For one small moment God guessed right

Cesar's legions on the fields of Mars
Clashed swords and drank to their Centurions
As an Era waited to see the dawn
And new blood to baptize the marbled Columns

And in the farms
beyond Rome,
The shepherds walked their sheep to rest
Where families returned to their homes
With stories of the day's parades and jests

And in the time
Between the days
When Rome slept and the crickets mated
The world was cast in velvet night
Lighted solely by constellation

And in that moment
God became
silent.
---
Sam WG May 2014
Afflicted by the sickness of spirit
Falling desperately in love
This one is for the memories
To feed the pondering that flows above

In and out of passages
Shadows dark as night
Forever they are resting
Beside straight edged flows of light

And as solumn as it sounds
What is here foretold
May well turn out to be right
As the story unfolds

Solitude.. rain storm.. then silence
Brewing up a thought of lust
Convinced by the illest form of wisdom
Now, quite surely, in love
Duke Thompson May 2016
I am oyster of ocean (closed off)
I am burning of bigot neo-**** flag
I eat of earth and drink deep of river
I sleep on floor in concrete sardine can
I pluck words out of the sky (drawn ire)
Paint pictures of solumn cerebral sorrow,
Tired eyes, liars ties
Humbled before magnitude of universe
Crushed by weight of world
"Then why carry it"
Asks pretty girl/voices
Mark Lecuona Feb 2015
What solumn countenance would curtain
a joyous explosion of masks, wigs and
gay costumes lifted upon the shoulders
of unicorns, hoisted by green mice with
chattering teeth as the teeming throbbing
wall of ever sharpening claws and whip
tails tightening the knots that bind them
with each living brick?

What strained smile would do honor
to the leaping unicorn, transporting
mere mortals transformed by imagination
relinqueshed of reason and the laws of
man where those who carry no haute
or couture of those most favored swallows
that flap their wings until the day their
frivolity turns it's head on their foolishness?

What mind locked behind lonely doors
would leap ahead of birds shed of tails
and teeth and horns that fly about the
land unabashadedly crossing seas and
rivers cooling the hardened hearts of
men who cannot believe in the fairy tails
of fantasy because what their God decided
was that the poor must always be with us?
Thinking about suicide
It seams its all not real
The thoughts that infest my swollen mind...the sadness that they feel

A broken heart where none belongs
A tearful eye can see
That this pain has already killed inside, and as death is yet to be...

So much pain and so much hurt
Its all my fault, i acted first
And apeared before a saint
Who looked down on me with strain

Thinking about suicide
Thoughts have never been...
Not since i was 5 years old...
"It is a mortal sin"

When i made a solumn pact
On those thoughts, i would never act
Nothing is ever clear to see
Nothing is a fact
Bryce Perry Feb 2015
Emerald streams and
bronze, sunbaked trees
      Golden arches
embedded in our hair.
And call to you the serenade of nature, the trees howled,
In perfect equilibrium
                                   My solumn,
                             secluded daydream.
Fixated on the absence of time,
The loss of structure
and chaos so beautifully aligned.
Keith W Fletcher Feb 2017
Even in the garden of inspiration There will be no second chance..
..to redo that first dance

So don't always wait for the invitation
To step up...to step up and not miss
That awkward and electrifying build-up of the first kiss

What glory will be won by implication
That creates some obstinate need to win it
If you surrender raise the white flag and are still late by 1 minute

Will you be able to dispel the inclination
That persists in what if's.... you had done this
Or might some ironic twist allow something else to miss

Even In The garden of inspiration
Where dreams of  butterfly parades
Lends color and pattern and beauty that never fades

And the artistic squirrel renders artistic deviation
By showing off the scrolls which he carefully unrolls
Depictions of treeless wastelands
beyond his controls

As the squirrels all gather  to witness his creation
A sad vigil they sit the branches where so often each one dances
I stand chastened by guilt felt
the pain in the eyes - as each one glances

From the barren depiction to me and at our symbiotic relation.  
We destroy forests, water... air ....
taking more than our needs
This line of solumn tree dwellers
give back forests by hoarding seeds

So even in the garden of inspiration..
..I cannot see how it will all work out
When the squirrels all stop dancing  
And the butterfly parades wilt in the world without shade

Even in the garden of inspiration I can't see past the destruction and decimation
To what should be our greatest creation

And I wonder - if we even care
To really really really look at the state of disrepair
We have allowed ourselves to take for granted
What the animals and birds and fish allowed us to share.
Colm Apr 2019
Eternal time
Is hinted at, implied
For a moment within this solumn sound
But that is not for us to know
As humans with, within this truth
Surrounded by and all around
Everything we do and create, implies
Caroline Shank Dec 2019
You breathe in my heart a
song so sweet that I
swing on a cloud.  You
dance me around the
daylight and lay with me
during the night of dreams.

I will be on the side of your
red pleasure as you call
to me to be blessed by the
flavor of goodness.

We swing on a star.
You make me glad to run
with you, the wind, and
our song.

Together we fly over
mountains and lakes.
We grasp the promise
of tomorrow.

We are in the tumble
and the flight of wind
upward.

We are unflappable. Together.
we lay upon each other's heart
a solumn moment. The eternal
fabric of time.



Caroline Shank

— The End —