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"soma" poems
i why don´ t they just make a machine that does our living,lily,darling, save a lot of messing.. we live all these years and then slowly our memory depletes them (though they say all memory lives within..) if we were programmed at the beginning some kind of limiting of emotion ambition etc.. alpha to epsilon brain washing soma.. *** but no reproduction endless fun order.. is belonging art gone the way sure.. simple dogma love or go love..* ii lily says love is meaningless unless we are ready to die.. who is.. would i.. i stood high to the very devil.. fall over weebil..ha.. but to die and see sun rise no more.. little bird sing in the silent dawn sweet voice eternal greeting.. blithe angel o children of the future.. messenger of the gods.. loyal gaurdian to ever and never.. outside and know a silent cosmos.. be born anew to heart be found..? *through-out the poem are references to the brilliant novel brave new world.for which i make no apology but as a mark of respect to great talent of aldous huxley..
0
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 7:40 AM UTC
why don ́t they just make a machine
Bursting taps Like broken feet Crack, Droning a beat. Exclamations and hearts. Facebook Frankenstein: Nerves made senseless, By hyperbolic sentiments. Stripped as wires, Latex skin and a rib removed, Bringing the heart close to the keys. Orchestrated wires and pulleys Raising muscles like curtains. Brushing ***** bleached hair, Catching fingers like paper cuts. A hollow form, Designed in California, Approved in New Jersey, And made in some sweat shop. Flash your smile, Take your soma, Dream of MTV; You're the nightmare of my society.
0
Jul 21, 2011
Jul 21, 2011 at 5:54 PM UTC
Facebook Frankenstein
I dated two robots yesterdays Both were programmed to service me well We did things In the same good old learned order of doing things And after sunset we kissed at the beach With one - our feet touching With the other - our view inviting the rush of salty waves Alas Both robots could suddenly not speak One even bluffed he had a virus in throat AI intelligence?! jaa ha ha The other was hanging just with With variations of what do you feels Tell me your fantasy s ‘Don't think tell me whatever comes first’ s And I believe And I say But Mine is what he can't understand His’ is I think a drink on the beach But unfortunately I don't drink Using coconut biotica only These days Ahhahhaa ... While they chatted so well! Without any error of a word to spell! … I dated two robots yesterday That sighed only to say I can't believe I am holding yous How much I missed yous Hugging robots Vibrating robots Robots with small mouth and twister tongue Ready to penetrate into mine at a slightest chance of an opening A disguised disgust of my sincere failure not towards the robot but myself Hiding you still under my palate from where the soma of your love drips Now as if forcefully been replaced to a taste of this preprogrammed chatalike Have they lost their voice because of my best dress or maybe the fantasy of the sandy bikini which they will never see in the dark wherein Both hiding their face But I see By my loose body parts Maybe a lookalike But I ain't no robot Oh my sandy bikini Oh Chosen so carefully To rejuvenate their fantasy a different pattern for each- yes. I do take care of that! Stays now as an Everly Brothers’ dream In my mind only But My ‘okey ‘ is an ensuring ‘yes yes’ the Indian way Of course They did their best Seriously Thus A big CHAPEAU For the zest That obviously still can break china hearts I took it as a test To get to know me better Let me be broken through your dream Let me cry and shake and perceive an angry cloudy color world let my remains of china burst I dated two robots yesterdays while expecting for a man Thankfully though these are yesterdays Today I met a true man A gypsy We will date sometime Play tabla and darbuka Drink dance and sing And sleep To salute the sun early in the morning At the beach
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Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 2:58 AM UTC
I dated two robots yesterdays
I dated two robots yesterdays Both were programmed to service me well We did things In the same good old learned order of doing things And after sunset we kissed at the beach With one - our feet touching With the other - our view inviting the rush of salty waves Alas Both robots could suddenly not speak One even bluffed he had a virus in throat AI intelligence?! jaa ha ha The other was hanging just with With variations of what do you feels Tell me your fantasy s ‘Don't think tell me whatever comes first’ s And I believe And I say But Mine is what he can't understand His’ is I think a drink on the beach But unfortunately I don't drink Using coconut biotica only These days Ahhahhaa ... While they chatted so well! Without any error of a word to spell! … I dated two robots yesterday That sighed only to say I can't believe I am holding yous How much I missed yous Hugging robots Vibrating robots Robots with small mouth and twister tongue Ready to penetrate into mine at a slightest chance of an opening A disguised disgust of my sincere failure not towards the robot but myself Hiding you still under my palate from where the soma of your love drips Now as if forcefully been replaced to a taste of this preprogrammed chatalike Have they lost their voice because of my best dress or maybe the fantasy of the sandy bikini which they will never see in the dark wherein Both hiding their face But I see By my loose body parts Maybe a lookalike But I ain't no robot Oh my sandy bikini Oh Chosen so carefully To rejuvenate their fantasy a different pattern for each- yes. I do take care of that! Stays now as an Everly Brothers’ dream In my mind only But My ‘okey ‘ is an ensuring ‘yes yes’ the Indian way Of course They did their best Seriously Thus A big CHAPEAU For the zest That obviously still can break china hearts I took it as a test To get to know me better Let me be broken through your dream Let me cry and shake and perceive an angry cloudy color world let my remains of china burst I dated two robots yesterdays while expecting for a man Thankfully though these are yesterdays Today I met a true man A gypsy We will date sometime Play tabla and darbuka Drink dance and sing And sleep To salute the sun early in the morning At the beach
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103
*flowing rivers simulate the virtual reality of love warriors topple over forgotten like cartons of used milk silk worms speak sovereign messages and warn us of our fate are we ill or are we healthy stealthily imprisoned by our visions finish the sentences and sever your attachments respecting tradition leads to detachment a semblance of serenity the giver of the dawn used shards of standard force hover in the mind’s sky houses pass you by in finite allegories gardens blossom governing movies and seating our jobless go outside now remove the shades from your eyes breathe in soma and drink from the sky sightless sorrow forges on towards tomorrow art is a balancing act she came out of her shell in order to tell you a story of garlands of silver and gold woven finely into ribbons greased with oil from a rare toad*
0
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 11:33 AM UTC
in finite allegories
तत् त्वम् असि *for sitar, mridangam, vina, musical spoons, washboard, Jew’s harp and banjo* (*the names Swami and Guru-ji can be replaced by any other mystic names the reader wishes to substitute*) Swami and Guru-ji went to the river to wash their souls in the ***** water filled brass pots while they were at it, singing: “These are Gods – worship them, worship them, these are Gods – won’t you worship them please” Guru and Swami-ji flexed contortions twisted minds and limbs in knots sold each other secret mantras to erase akashic records when the body rots Swami and Guru-ji taught disciples how to fast and hum and chant; bound their ***** with priestly garments, saying “These are Gods – worship them, worship them, these are Gods – won’t you worship them please” Guru and Swami-ji swallowed prana purged their guts, then farted light launched their chakras into oneness in the ida and pingala of their third-eye sight Swami and Guru-ji built a temple around a monstrous calf of gold bowed before the six-armed idols chanting “These are Gods – worship them, worship them, these are Gods – won’t you worship them please” Guru and Swami-ji studied parchments by the dim light of a feeble ray railed and wailed at the sinful heathen in the filthy Kali-yuga of the dying day Swami and Guru-ji made ablutions offered incense and holy foods ate their share and smoked the profit, humming “These are Gods – worship them, worship them, these are Gods – won’t you worship them please” Guru and Swami’s blissed devotions entwined their members with the temple belles; stuck their yonis up their lingams in the twenty-seventh circle of the seven hells. Swami and Guru-ji offered puja wrote it all off as a karmic debt – forced a shudra to bear the burden, screaming “These are Gods – worship them, worship them, these are Gods – won’t you worship them please” Guru and Swami-ji meditated: pure omniscience in eternal now – drank fresh ***** from a heifer’s bladder for they knew that it was soma from a holy cow. Swami and the Guru merged with Brahman – then went home to the wife and kids. Told the servants to polish statues, saying “These are Gods – worship them, worship them, these are Gods – won’t you worship them please” THE MORAL: (slower solemn rhythm, no banjo or Jew’s harp) Aaron’s calf is ground to powder, cast upon the Ganges’ tide. Every tribe shall taste its poison. “This is God –worship Him, worship Him – this is God – let us worship Him now…”
0
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC
Hindoo Folk Song
तत् त्वम् असि *for sitar, mridangam, vina, musical spoons, washboard, Jew’s harp and banjo* (*the names Swami and Guru-ji can be replaced by any other mystic names the reader wishes to substitute*) Swami and Guru-ji went to the river to wash their souls in the ***** water filled brass pots while they were at it, singing: “These are Gods – worship them, worship them, these are Gods – won’t you worship them please” Guru and Swami-ji flexed contortions twisted minds and limbs in knots sold each other secret mantras to erase akashic records when the body rots Swami and Guru-ji taught disciples how to fast and hum and chant; bound their ***** with priestly garments, saying “These are Gods – worship them, worship them, these are Gods – won’t you worship them please” Guru and Swami-ji swallowed prana purged their guts, then farted light launched their chakras into oneness in the ida and pingala of their third-eye sight Swami and Guru-ji built a temple around a monstrous calf of gold bowed before the six-armed idols chanting “These are Gods – worship them, worship them, these are Gods – won’t you worship them please” Guru and Swami-ji studied parchments by the dim light of a feeble ray railed and wailed at the sinful heathen in the filthy Kali-yuga of the dying day Swami and Guru-ji made ablutions offered incense and holy foods ate their share and smoked the profit, humming “These are Gods – worship them, worship them, these are Gods – won’t you worship them please” Guru and Swami’s blissed devotions entwined their members with the temple belles; stuck their yonis up their lingams in the twenty-seventh circle of the seven hells. Swami and Guru-ji offered puja wrote it all off as a karmic debt – forced a shudra to bear the burden, screaming “These are Gods – worship them, worship them, these are Gods – won’t you worship them please” Guru and Swami-ji meditated: pure omniscience in eternal now – drank fresh ***** from a heifer’s bladder for they knew that it was soma from a holy cow. Swami and the Guru merged with Brahman – then went home to the wife and kids. Told the servants to polish statues, saying “These are Gods – worship them, worship them, these are Gods – won’t you worship them please” THE MORAL: (slower solemn rhythm, no banjo or Jew’s harp) Aaron’s calf is ground to powder, cast upon the Ganges’ tide. Every tribe shall taste its poison. “This is God –worship Him, worship Him – this is God – let us worship Him now…”
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68
Through darkness, laced in edges of light, And rain, falling like angels plagued by blight, Shattering their heavenly bones and wings, Onto the eyeless dust of their return; Through paths stranger to the hope of spring, Where voices of ghosts hang with cries of “Burn!” And moss mottled trees, like macabre jesters Dance, limbless, leaves flailing grotesquely To the secret japes of wind-bourn nesters; Through corpse-ridden forests of insanity, To where the rocks dress as the three witches And chant midst their vainglorious riches *“All hail, Eremita, bound to the adamah altar, All hail, Eremita, your blood soma from the mortar, All hail, Eremita, thou shalt be dead hereafter”...*
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Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC
Dreams of Despair
endless pacing of these subaquatic halls almost catatonic until I remember how to think and then I cry I should be dead I was dead free from this painful existence until something - the WAU - brought me back in it's skewed mission to preserve humanity the WAU stitched me back together with its gel of life hardly human hardly conscious but conscious enough to hate what I am and cry over my own existence misery then anger I am half myself half WAU angry craving to **** hurt end whatever stumbles across my path in my habitual walks through these corridoors I see him something else another who is aware oh what I wouldn't give to have another sentient creature to curb my loneliness but- NO! STAY AWAY FROM ME! the WAU starts talking **** him he doesn't want you to exist he will prevent you from being with me you need me we need each other he wants to end us to end life he must be extinguished for the sake of preserving humanity find him chase him **** HIM in my pursuit of the sentient diving suit I recognize his fear and my humanity comes back to me and I weep he is so afraid of who I am the Frankenstein the predator seeking prey I cry because this is who I am I cry because I don't want to hurt him I cry because I am alive constantly torn between animalistic rage and the self aware misery of realizing what I am I want someone to hold me and make me feel human but I don't want any conscious creature to get near me for the WAU is controlling the strings of this puppet it is the reason I exist it gives me the sustenance I need and crave to keep on hating my own existence it will make me **** anything that crosses my path I think and I weep
0
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC
THE ROBOT GIRL (A POEM ABOUT THE VIDEO GAME SOMA BY FRICTIONAL GAMES)
endless pacing of these subaquatic halls almost catatonic until I remember how to think and then I cry I should be dead I was dead free from this painful existence until something - the WAU - brought me back in it's skewed mission to preserve humanity the WAU stitched me back together with its gel of life hardly human hardly conscious but conscious enough to hate what I am and cry over my own existence misery then anger I am half myself half WAU angry craving to **** hurt end whatever stumbles across my path in my habitual walks through these corridoors I see him something else another who is aware oh what I wouldn't give to have another sentient creature to curb my loneliness but- NO! STAY AWAY FROM ME! the WAU starts talking **** him he doesn't want you to exist he will prevent you from being with me you need me we need each other he wants to end us to end life he must be extinguished for the sake of preserving humanity find him chase him **** HIM in my pursuit of the sentient diving suit I recognize his fear and my humanity comes back to me and I weep he is so afraid of who I am the Frankenstein the predator seeking prey I cry because this is who I am I cry because I don't want to hurt him I cry because I am alive constantly torn between animalistic rage and the self aware misery of realizing what I am I want someone to hold me and make me feel human but I don't want any conscious creature to get near me for the WAU is controlling the strings of this puppet it is the reason I exist it gives me the sustenance I need and crave to keep on hating my own existence it will make me **** anything that crosses my path I think and I weep
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130
Soma that seeps flowing like little creeks sprinkling off the edge wetting a tongue outstretched watering wilted flower beds feeding that pretty head cycling arid to wetlands
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May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 11:54 AM UTC
Lachrymation
Captive of the city. A walk between the drawing and the camera, a drawing and a camera. Blindness is about understanding gesture. Stereoscope Sound Scenes Systems Blue lines form the links between the black cats suggesting, what we know is that we do not. Forget me the sweet song rising from her ashtray be gone hearts frayed afraid. Coma Cluster Coma Cluster Coma CLUSTER COMO cluster CLuster cOma ClUsTeR CoMa Soma simply trying to muster Domino Christos no longer allow my suffer ECCE **** IN The GARDEN of ever EARTHLY delights Strings Filaments Voids Soap bubbles filling a sink slide through Pop. Pop. I float above stronger than a rock my blue black burning body love emirates emanating Red-Shifted For You though dust clouds interfere
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Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 3:11 PM UTC
SOho FeEds The pOOr
Ridonsi donne e giovani amorosi M’ occostandosi attorno, e perche scrivi, Perche tu scrivi in lingua ignota e strana Verseggiando d’amor, e conie t’osi ? Dinne, se la tua speme sia mai vana E de pensieri lo miglior t’ arrivi; Cosi mi van burlando, altri rivi Altri lidi t’ aspettan, & altre onde Nelle cui verdi sponde Spuntati ad hor, ad hor a la tua chioma L’immortal guiderdon d ‘eterne frondi Perche alle spalle tue soverchia soma? Canzon dirotti, e tu per me rispondi Dice mia Donna, e’l suo dir, e il mio cuore Questa e lingua di cui si vanta Amore.
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2.1k
Sonnet 03: Canzone
best days better left behind bereft of joy fighting in vain for fleeting fulfillment instead seeping bile from punctured ***** appendix found septic too late even still now hungry for real life like stomach tapeworm eating purpose lost along the way now empty, grey when did time get away from us all leaving bitter little paisan us's stripped bare of long dead dreams like Christmas morning c-section strippers five dollar bills stuffed in withered *****
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Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
Soma
From ivory towers to the streets of Paris the hopeful and hopeless devour what they've gathered they all want their chance on the parade but on epsilon streets it only rains erroneous stale induced calm of tropical hibiscus and cool lemon grass in neat little packaging and the suits milk their crops and shout make me king! yeah one day I'll be king! and none of this will mean anything! and the lions will all be tamed! because they all want their chance their chance on the parade the young and the widowed the lonely the echos our self induced coma oh god give him soma! oh give him some functionality his cold lips feel no reason to breathe the reason the treason vociferous silence   buy one get one free or sit there in silence because everything's on offer there's nothing to scoff at the birth of today for the death of tomorrow
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Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 8:15 AM UTC
The Parade
floral effervescence      wafts around you           thy theo black temperament rose iq           ushers lulabies as playful amor kru           apollo is falling for the aquamarine        rays, reflecting the sea's craved ardour      and our love is like a cyclamen oleandro   the fascinating, dissolving, poisonous sleep   inwardly unaware of the whitest clouds oro   seducing the beauty of a ceruelan absolute ~    if i were the wave i would foam your dream     if you were a black panther i'd be your kaa        for a day to experience your mighty paws      to tremble like open window shutters, strickened        by the fire, by light, by thunderbolt's love flame        oh, come on, come on sweet man of the fantasia        i've got to tell you i ain't foolin' around those dim       alleys at nights like this; luscious calls lure hello        at least, hear my hearts deepest throbbings, hear      them, embrace them, conquer my world's cream       taste the strawberry sweeteness on a tip of me, u        trickle your tongue against my open buoyancy        write kaligrafic words of love's invisible tint         beautify the untouched pergament, maestro         write like there's no time nor tomorrow's no;        inaugure every christmas crickets flash mob        within you and awaken me from a slumber,        deeply rooted, lovely and mild as wood's chi        and I will cherish you, praise and love long         forgotten wild forest's animals as panacea         for the dissolving salt upon a love wound             which torchered your solitude for who's          pleasure, for what reason, for a slick slap           of an epic trustful faith as lux aeterna              crashing the myth of a love superior;           a desolation of waning touches soma          hiding its fragility in madmind's attempt        to overcome what's earth's given inferno;         to die in a lustful blazing heat of creatio           contemplating about heavenly key lock         how to forge a golden key to your anima,       gracefully giving a hand to her emperor       to dance on a verge of an existence' folie        to blossom upon hushed world's meridian          in dreamy space n' time, first darlin' flush         the prime animus dances, dares, waters~
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Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
Aspired Aquamarine ~~~Absolute Adored Ardour
floral effervescence      wafts around you           thy theo black temperament rose iq           ushers lulabies as playful amor kru           apollo is falling for the aquamarine        rays, reflecting the sea's craved ardour      and our love is like a cyclamen oleandro   the fascinating, dissolving, poisonous sleep   inwardly unaware of the whitest clouds oro   seducing the beauty of a ceruelan absolute ~    if i were the wave i would foam your dream     if you were a black panther i'd be your kaa        for a day to experience your mighty paws      to tremble like open window shutters, strickened        by the fire, by light, by thunderbolt's love flame        oh, come on, come on sweet man of the fantasia        i've got to tell you i ain't foolin' around those dim       alleys at nights like this; luscious calls lure hello        at least, hear my hearts deepest throbbings, hear      them, embrace them, conquer my world's cream       taste the strawberry sweeteness on a tip of me, u        trickle your tongue against my open buoyancy        write kaligrafic words of love's invisible tint         beautify the untouched pergament, maestro         write like there's no time nor tomorrow's no;        inaugure every christmas crickets flash mob        within you and awaken me from a slumber,        deeply rooted, lovely and mild as wood's chi        and I will cherish you, praise and love long         forgotten wild forest's animals as panacea         for the dissolving salt upon a love wound             which torchered your solitude for who's          pleasure, for what reason, for a slick slap           of an epic trustful faith as lux aeterna              crashing the myth of a love superior;           a desolation of waning touches soma          hiding its fragility in madmind's attempt        to overcome what's earth's given inferno;         to die in a lustful blazing heat of creatio           contemplating about heavenly key lock         how to forge a golden key to your anima,       gracefully giving a hand to her emperor       to dance on a verge of an existence' folie        to blossom upon hushed world's meridian          in dreamy space n' time, first darlin' flush         the prime animus dances, dares, waters~
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46
The moon, just now is a cradle full of milk pouring sweet glowing soma into our drowsy hearts rocking us so deeply into sleep and the gentlest of visionary dreams
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Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 10:46 PM UTC
The Moon Is A Cradle Tonight
Pinching pins,                                Up and down my curve Napping needles,                                 In the nape of my knee Sprouting stings,                                Stabbing the span of my soma (body) Swelling sores,                             Has my soma aching Psychologically speaking, I just don't want to be in pain for the rest of my life
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Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 6:46 PM UTC
Sinuous sting
Prescription by Mother Nature Soma that lasts for as long as you dream Medicine without side effects Caviar with no expense A state of mind That takes you anywhere your imagination pleads Being able to become whoever you want Even not a human being Travelling the world at the speed of light Braking the barriers of distance and time A conversation with those who for long have died An unlimited world of happiness Brought upon the hiding of the sun The rising of the moon And the twinkling of the stars Pathway to heaven Caviar with no expense State of mind Taking you to the limit of your imagination Unlimited world of happiness That begins as you close your eyes Allowing your brain to take you To the grand tour of your life
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Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 8:31 PM UTC
Sleep
A lunar eclipse passeth between ourn Soma's A solar eclipse maketh glitz On ourn lip's; Kiss of pneuma.                             Aforetime quietus, breathless existence                             Now coalesced in vivacity;                             Sculpted, in the creator's                             spiritus. ©Brandon Nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Earl Jane Nagley-filipino rose dedication Note; Happy four month anniversary Reyna Jane Nagley!!!! Love you more Reyna, thank you for sticking with me the last four month's, seem's as If we've been together for lifetimes now,which verily I've known thee a lot longer than thou hath known!!!! Mas mahal kita Reyna.... For anyone who don't know what ( mas mahal kita Reyna means) it means I love you more queen.. In Filipino tongue.!!!!!! Me more queen Jane!!!! Happy 4th mine Reyna!!! Mine soulmate....
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Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 11:40 AM UTC
Sculpted; in the creator's spiritus
held helplessly in the hyponotic gaze of the full moon i sway the sea is the charmer’s flute i - the drunken snake mesmerized by this magic the cold shock of the nightly surf surges from the tip of my toes to the peak of my consciousness i’m lost and i find myself all in the same moment i rise with the swell of the tide anticipating each breaker with closed eyes just feeling the sandy waters swirl ******* away at the ground beneath my feet i’d gladly fall and be swept away i’ve let go i am at peace there isn’t a better feeling there isn’t a greater pleasure there is no where i’d rather be tonight except with you on this beach - Vijayalakshmi Harish    26.01.2013    Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
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Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 12:07 PM UTC
Soma
Loko ndzi tihanyela andzi hanyeli nwina ndzi hanyela xikwembu xamina. Loko ndzi famba miri ndzina matsolo yontswontswana,xana amilava ni fambisa leswi milavisaka xiswona ndzi tshika leswi hosi yindzi endliseke swona. Loko ndzi khongela miri ndzi twa ndlala,xana ndzinga tshika kukhongela hosi yamuna hikwalaho ka nwina. Ndzi tisomele tintombi nwina miku ndza oswa,amolava ndzi soma nwina ,mitaswivona leswaku ndzi soma hirirhandzu kungari Ku huha. Xana ni endliwa yini? Xankoka kanwina iku vona munhu axaniseka,leswaku mitaba swikhiyana minga heti. Ebo mhe na ala,ndzi nge pfuki ndzi ni yingisile. Loko mindzi vona ndzi hundza hi ndlela mi yimbelela tinsimu ta michongolo,onge hiloko mondzivona ndzimu vhevhulela. Amilava ndzi titshova tshova bya vanwambhurhi kona mita tsaka ,Mina andzi fambeli kutsakisa munhu ndzi fambela kufika laha ndzi yaka kona. Xana mindzi endla yini. Andzi dyi swanwina ndzatitirhela himavoko ya Mina,nwina miendla onge vatomihakela. Ndzi tshikeni ndzi tihanyela Mina. Xana mindzi endla yini. Ndza engeta nakambe xana mindzi endla yini?
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Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 1:59 AM UTC
XANA MINDZI ENDLA YINI
The wicked, they come In a cerulean dream. The cellar door opened, With an opposable thumb. A disposable past And no ties in the future, They live within ****** And die through their caste. Oh, Ford! They cry out For all of their blessings. Oh, Ford! I cry too, To drown silent doubt. “Take me to your room.” She breathes, voice coppered, She conducts me. Unzips in One movement, fit to bloom. “Lenina,” I call, Eyes blinded by her colour. In a world so built and grey, I live only in her sprawl. We finish, my heart descending. She nicks her lips to my ear, Then reminds me thus; “Ending is better than mending.” To bed we fall; once, twice, thrice. Each time I cling longer, Wrap her in bedsheets, ‘Till she feels our ****** splice. With no use, she’s gone To some other embrace. Some cold shouldered support, Then to the salon. She’ll tell all to her friends, A gaggle of giggles. And he’ll speak of her, Like some means to an end. “Pneumatic,” is she, He’ll say with no stutter, “You should have her,” he’ll offer, Like the fruit from a tree. No, like meat, like meat, She is passed around. Like animals, the Alphas Bruise, **** and maltreat. Community. Snake-like, It moves as if one. Each person a muscle, Not separate but a part. Identity. It blurs, ‘Till I forget the use Of my name. Push it out, Repeat in my dreams. Stability. It comes, A two-gramme holiday. A superficial guffaw That veneers my face. Oh, Soma! Come take me, From where I don’t belong. To where passions are birthed Far from the hatchery. To where feelings are heartfelt, Not found in a pill. Where waistlines aren’t throttled By a Malthusian belt. A savage I am, In my pursuit for more. When I long for freedom, And not another half-gramme. Gaia, she held us in her womb. From fish to ape, she mothered too. Now all that’s left is this soulless gloom Where man is born only to consume.
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Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 11:08 AM UTC
Brave New World
The wicked, they come In a cerulean dream. The cellar door opened, With an opposable thumb. A disposable past And no ties in the future, They live within ****** And die through their caste. Oh, Ford! They cry out For all of their blessings. Oh, Ford! I cry too, To drown silent doubt. “Take me to your room.” She breathes, voice coppered, She conducts me. Unzips in One movement, fit to bloom. “Lenina,” I call, Eyes blinded by her colour. In a world so built and grey, I live only in her sprawl. We finish, my heart descending. She nicks her lips to my ear, Then reminds me thus; “Ending is better than mending.” To bed we fall; once, twice, thrice. Each time I cling longer, Wrap her in bedsheets, ‘Till she feels our ****** splice. With no use, she’s gone To some other embrace. Some cold shouldered support, Then to the salon. She’ll tell all to her friends, A gaggle of giggles. And he’ll speak of her, Like some means to an end. “Pneumatic,” is she, He’ll say with no stutter, “You should have her,” he’ll offer, Like the fruit from a tree. No, like meat, like meat, She is passed around. Like animals, the Alphas Bruise, **** and maltreat. Community. Snake-like, It moves as if one. Each person a muscle, Not separate but a part. Identity. It blurs, ‘Till I forget the use Of my name. Push it out, Repeat in my dreams. Stability. It comes, A two-gramme holiday. A superficial guffaw That veneers my face. Oh, Soma! Come take me, From where I don’t belong. To where passions are birthed Far from the hatchery. To where feelings are heartfelt, Not found in a pill. Where waistlines aren’t throttled By a Malthusian belt. A savage I am, In my pursuit for more. When I long for freedom, And not another half-gramme. Gaia, she held us in her womb. From fish to ape, she mothered too. Now all that’s left is this soulless gloom Where man is born only to consume.
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72
I – the girl you observe guilty pleasure marching through molten black torch ignited orbiting phantasms in the aphotic burning within corruption incinerated upon ingestion tucked behind your frame nestling ear lip grazing canal zest to soliloquy vivacious saccharine tone ruminating in the lilt of your tongue resting in gum scoop and jawbone (mandible) reserve adroit pivot humbled gaze locked exteroception engaged hard swallow pearls scooped catatonic atop lingering breast ascension prudent olfaction volatile cribriform annihilation ginger – basil - brine - ruminate etch of lace sailplaning flesh topographic aureate sunlight cresting soma intoned morning – essence of miasma
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Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
Ascent
1) Here in the dark where rules don't exist Gravity slips my wrist to your hips And your kiss like Soma lay burned on my lips Sudden a slight, subtle physical gesture So foreign to think of it - only conjecture Alluring, your posture bent into mine first 2) Unable to think, unable to breathe Unable to reason rational reasons for such indulgence So known was he to penitence So unknown was this dream And that, it was a dream Cortisol surging, testosterone flowing, epinephrine...surely would split his mind at the seam, and end this cruel romantic dream 3) Soma to touch her Soma to feel her Nothing to know, and none left to sow Soma to see her Soma to hear her When won't it last? When will it go? Soma to think Soma to dream Forever unknowing Forever I'll be
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Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 10:18 PM UTC
Soma
Oedipus man you’re not done worlds move in and out and meaning is undone; and the Sphinx says it’s your mommy and daddy and this time you can never unravel the riddle the woman dad sleeps with is not his wife and his wife is not your mom and your mom never carried you and the womb you lived in is anonymous; what else is new? times are always the same there’s nothing strange or novel except terms and focus and brands and the child who calls you daddy is not yours and the man who calls you "Son" is loose in his morals O see how man how things unwind and you have seen unknown things tease and strip; and you have wept in the face of the storm in a world of King Lear’s turned upside down, inside out and you have cried like the Fool: Ah, Hold! Hold! O man don’t die on us for we won’t die on you; you’ve lived on hallucinations and walking alone and wandering the face of the earth you’ve tried all drugs, and ecstasy and Soma and now you’ve adopted God and religion - ah, it’s always been one drug or other Oedipus man you’re not done worlds move in and out and meaning is undone; and the Sphinx says it’s your mommy and daddy and this time you can never unravel the riddle
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Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 5:23 PM UTC
Mr Anonymous, a life