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"spectra" poems
The nightsky is alike a mighty mansion of the stars which then twinkle in elegance, beauty and transience until the dawn outshines them in a graceful manner. As the night turns away from the sun and from her light, danger in our imagination could await, from the corners of our very mind. Yet the stars make up a soft blanket, a cover of the calmest of light, which could bring peace to a soul which is performing a rampage. All the constilations, all the names and forms which reveal themselves, are but a heavenly spectra for those who are nocturnal. Or for those, whom have meet the cruel fate to be allergic to the natural, straight forward, warming and blissful sunlight. There is no soul with no protector, in the nightsky such would be a bright,piercing star, standing proud,manifest its location is over you Holding many wonders, the beauty of the night comes with shooting stars, which at times shortly sweep over the heaven before fading. Wishes are made upon, hope fills their hearts, for a better future or a fulfilment of their desires, tangled up within the depth of mind. Night becomes bright once the moon shines, in its fullest posture. Becomes dark once the rainclouds drive near, calling in thunder. But most importantly, it is a time of rest, from all this earth beholds ~ Umi
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Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 1:30 AM UTC
The Nightsky
Extravagantly exorbitant mentality panacea Pretentious eidetic’s ubiquity mnemonics Extraversion embezzlement extortion mens rea Endergonic laconic cacophony phonics Preterite rendition enclitic equilibrist motion Mystic symbiosis dharma spiritual sky Brusque macabre abjections the gist of the potion Straight up forever ontology on high Obdurately abstruse vituperatively vociferous Juxtaposition apparition myriad avarice Orotund sonorous diction obliquitous Multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis Mirador bartizan phantasmagoria aesthetics Guidon gyration excursion integration Sorcerous alchemizing interstitial endemics   Chaos charisma objectified tribulation Conjurous apothegms clitoral apomixis Exude emote surrogate extrapolation Astral projection littoral hypotaxis Kinetic supremacy homogeneity gravitation Coercible coalescent cohesion dexterities Adjunct conjunction conjecture acuity Platonic pragmatic prosaic austerities Extemporaneous impromptu innuendo fortuity Propinquity habitation harbinger spectra Perplexing paradox tenacity rostra Intensely cogitational abstract mantra Penumbral exigency , umbrage per contra Theoretical incursion grandiloquent ne plus ultra Exogamy of homoplasy sic itur ad astra Quiescent serendipity surreal anestra
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Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 6:16 AM UTC
Asylum
By the earth and it's wonderful, wide and unique expanse A mother to what is living on it and inside of it, may it be small or great in their posture given to them. Indeed this place inhabits many creatures, faces and races. Each striving for their own path, of staying alive. The soft soil of the Earth, a comfortable living and breathing ground to walk on, proud and all connected, only to be divided By the sea which covers most of this planet, comparable to a blanket From which we gain food and drink, in a clear registered cycle. Of course this place too holds it's dangers, such as a quake could end it all in a brutal roughless manner and tear it from the ground we build our houses on. Or be it an eruption which casts a rain of ash and embers, suffocating the sky above, the ceiling which was meant to protect is our very end. A mighty wave, which sweeps over the cities, drowning them in it's lethal, cold and brutal, moist and salty embrace. It is not healthy to be in such a negative spectra of thinking however For this place holds, more transient, living, artistic beauty than I could simply express or convey in words. ~ Umi
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Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 3:10 PM UTC
Earth
Ganders...gargantua--ensconced in far-fetched space... (attrition)...LOOK AT THAT LINE...LOOK AT IT... ROUND THE CORNERS OF PERPETUITY...predilections. A soul's inalienable fracas...on bend and knee...hop...and whoop...miasmic gargoyles poppy-wreathed... for all-too-lucid dreaming...chanting etceteras of bare riff raffs. Golden breastplates...weeping willow wings...empurpled-- fending fang trumping lines of: yuck, cluck, claw and kook. ...Listless eyes...alphabetize...think a blind oracle's informed absentia...holy and bovine. Redolent airs...perspiration of spume's most distancing shore-- eyepieces for the specks and logs in the oculos of brothers and sisters. As dust to dust doth not settle...heart's yonder score...nay cease of interstice...off-world amorousness. Gather ye yarrow sticks...hurl them at days...roofless arcady... live into the spectra of their worlds, come friend or foe...Fate's foundling. Lines strung as prayer beads...curs-ed beads...forget-me-nots enclosed in letters baiting Long Farewells, in the great literary correspondence of authored and Author. ...Ye gorgeous gargoyles come perch and push. Persona non grata...the wide world...unisex prodigal...All--returneth. LOOK AT THAT LINE...LOOK AT IT...(attrition)...ROUND THE CORNERS OF PERPETUITY. NEBULAEIC FANFARE...come perch to push...lo...ANGELS!
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Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 12:35 PM UTC
Gorgeous Gargoyles
Two billion years ago the river we call Colorado opened a **** in the Kaibab Plateau sculpting sandstone, granite, and limestone spectra on the rugged canyon walls - reflecting the seering Arizona sun. Millennial torrents scoured the surface. Juniper and Aspen, torn from the expanding banks, ****** into the river's red-stained vortex. All the while the restless Colorado, obedient to gravity's law, scoured its bed a mile below the rim. The last dinosaur perished - choked by volcanic soot. Pangaea rumbled, groaned and split and an eye-blink ago our African parents stood to take their first faltering steps. Their progeny crossed the Bering bridge roaming south to build stone shelters tucked against these canyon walls. Did the Havasupai huddle in fright of the jagged firelight searing the skies - pounding the air across the hollows? And emerging at storm’s end did they gaze at the rainbow mist spread over the buttes and valleys? After dusk, with fires withering to embers, did they rest supine, heads pillowed on their arms, pondering the jewel case universe above? November, 2006
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Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 10:51 AM UTC
Grand Canyon
i'm not looking for pinpointed lights in the sky or my veins like emission spectra of petals you leave around my aorta with daisy chain bracelets whilst holding my heart like a baby hedgehog or a shard of glass left from broke-into car windows our getaway driver, misery, scattered across the pavement of your gaze i met for five exact seconds i remember, clean as new linen, the geometry of your living room seventy-six centimetres from your glasses or the symmetry of the bridge of your nose or the sound of your soft exhalation. to three decimal places i was in love with you, then. the rain need not spell it out in morse for me to know that. the sun need not rise to devour sleep; through the ten factorial seconds of each six-week fraction of my life, i dream of you.
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Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
beginner's entropy
August 10th, you seemed so distant Not quite as distant as the barrel of one gun The gun that fired the shot that would stun The scientific world, from Rutherford to Niels Bohr To find out esteemed fellow scientist Moseley was no more But before that, in 1913 X-ray spectra was naught more than a dream Before diffraction through crystals became the truth The wavelengths needed a meaning, and there was proof You developed a mathematical system without flaw One so great, it was named "Moseley's law" Mendeleev had the right idea, but not a plan Could not arrange the elements the way that you now can Without you, my sir, we would not have had this premium To enjoy the elements technetium, hafnium, promethium, and rhenium These gaps that like stars littered the periodic table Were filled with ease, and the cosmos became stable You had set the foundation for crystallography of x-rays A method of determining arrangement that is still used in modern days The first machines in use were those for which you had the design But their widespread use you could not see as there simply was no time For during a battle, as you made the phone set run A bullet took your grace away, a scientist dying young
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Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 4:21 PM UTC
To A Scientist Dying Young - an ode to Henry Moseley
what am i about giving you no gifts unable to pin my finger on a theme phenomenal you with whom i play away the year, yearned love from a decade's dream you've swayed into the real to flesh it here and interrupt all Being with a node of savvy personality i lessen if i think my words can measure that, how you emerge there, change come across the shore of presence, waves of filtered seas deeply you have gone and risen from within expanding metaphor in a lambency of ageless gazing at the stars and giving all a joyful undercurrent swim. luffa vines abound, for future shiny backskins arching bliss-- shedding all, i snake my way around the roots-- the yellow sheen fades and pupils zero intimate a finer lived experience... ripe intrusion truly love in tune with tips of sneezing hearts, curling toes unite, shout an intertwining pelvic orbit vaster space to yet unmake unspoken pleasures wide in everpresent fontanels the spectra plenum here again, next breath, ends of in, ends of out
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Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 11:16 PM UTC
sponge generous
In God’s No~Fly Zone blessedly, so many of you are unaware of the full color spectra that be can seen only when an age of experience has been reached, reached, not attained, for the no~fly zone is no place to be, without any redeeming colorations, it is dark hued twilight that inhibits vision clarity, a precursor warning of the *hungry darkness* that offers to swallow one into shades of sad remorse, and other miseries How came I to earn this distinction, was not by acting out, rather by inaction, the failure to pick the  correct fork in a life of sentence diagramming, sentence in the prison sense, all my sentences, broken down,  no connection sensible to the next phrase, next phase,  so I sit beneath my vine and fig tree, unable to fly, unable to tear shed, grounded, pounded in my head
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Dec 3, 2023
Dec 3, 2023 at 10:43 AM UTC
In God’s No~Fly Zone
she was a peregrine & appeared to me shimmering in the primordial morning between purgatory & hell talons like a crucial valve-handle carrying me outside the gaudy dream my heart's vagrancy the latent tendency i had of putting chemicals into my body despite the ugly consequences one man's poison another man's high now sunlight fractures into spectra wind blows thru century-old oaks becomes tangled in my nipple-length blond hair as we march hand-in-hand thru these narrow streets the pinched labyrinth the last dusk light this swamp she was a peregrine the hungarian turul genteel brown eyes watching me howl at the midnight moon & yip like a fox at the first dawn light now she shares her own breathy yelps with the pillow like fumes of lavender sprayed in a strand of oaks i know for a fact she has claws she swore she'd never use them to hurt me but sometimes i let her anyway i need to feel those dead fingernails buried in my living shoulder-blades propelling me into a new kind of manhood redeeming my weaknesses weaseling into my shorts pains & insecurities melting like cloud's spit down the windowpane lazy & safe on a warm sunday morning wrapped together in the skin of this gyrating palace this is no longer casual desire: joni mitchell sound-tracked our first makeout sesh as stars bloomed fat behind a surly multitude of clouds over a tar-colored lake so if you think i'm ever letting her go you're a ******* pants-on-fire
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Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 3:48 PM UTC
turul
That time, When the morning shook me awake with a new set of senses Every pore opened leaving my old body obsolete and breathless It was a great day, filled with glory and dried sweat The sky would tell me tales of gore and criminal's scores The trees sung of warriors that could handle any pest that crept Sun and Moon would prance, ignorant of envious bores It was a great day, rattled with sounds and prattles Even gravel, had its mysteries of wondrous wandering Waters simply grew a face, to smile of silent pondering Grouchy and coarse the soils were, always whining of past battles It was a great day, whistling secrets and flaunting immortality At least that was how the wind would laugh, free and kooky Fires did more whistling, between their cackles and endless dances Then science was rinsed off the creatures to show the paths in their glances Who was I to judge? Woes of consuming spectra Under despot rhyme Then night had fell + My eyes would dwell / My hearts next swell = Still a space to figure, A time to measure: The center of levers:: A fate for lovers: A void...to test
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Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 12:25 AM UTC
The Void
The wheels draw to a halt with an ominous screech, Dazed, I look up from my broken revery; Murmuring voices, shuffling footsteps alight, A diffracted spectra, some dark, some bright. To the windows shift my moony eyes, As the engine spurts with a burst of life. Through a tunneling limbo of seamless dark, Slash ribbons of rail in swirls and arcs. In this labyrinth, this state of oblivion, Memories trickle, in ounces, in millions. Lights of saffron on the arches bloom, Will-o'-the-wisps, my conscience assumes. Emerge awed, under a canopy of stars, An infinity of dreams one could wish upon. The country bathes in the moonlight deluge. Utopia, I muse, for my poetic refuge. The cosmos smiles, enchanting yet so strange. Would we ever know why, if we weren't so vain? Gold, moltened crimson, at the horizon streaks, Warm like the dribble, of tears on one's cheeks. The last station nears, the wheel rhythm slows. I get up, wishing the end weren't so close. The final chapter. Is there ever a further plot? Perhaps, I decide, on another train of thought.
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Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 3:11 AM UTC
Train of Thought
I close my eyes, and I am anywhere. I rest my head in the warm grass, Breathe in the icy air, Breathe out billows of music. I taste the citrus clouds drifting and whisper encouragement. Sunshine drips off my eyelashes into puddles. I dance between them, splashing spectra on my shoes. The trees arch around me, sighing green envy at my rainbow feet. Tripping over shadows, memories glow, Etched in bark, veined in a leaf, cracked in a rockface, Lighting my way. I am not afraid here. I am just me.
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Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 10:57 PM UTC
Ruff Woods Escapism (25-6-10)
Daydreamer Turn your head a notch and we'll see that perfect dot beside your nose. Tell me, even though sanity may jettison and stroll down the lane as naked as a jay bird. you remember, that I had on too many clothes or not enough and neither one at the appropriate time, still, I can't soften the discard- the tint of rose from my cheeks or the titan grip on my jugular. Remind me still , with patience, like every other seven year old wearing a zirconium, Tiaras, pink taffeta and soft as night ballet slippers, that it's o.k. to sit on my spotted pony dreaming, that all princes will have a heart of gold. That promises mean something even to spectra and daydreamers... we stopped laughing when the song ended with the world spinning and I fell down calling your name on the back street of my worst nightmare coming true. Remind me gently, That best friends can't say I love you and still be best friends, well, I already knew, it just might be that all the time my eyes were wide open they just wouldn't stop listening to the skipping thud of my pulse.
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Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 2:17 AM UTC
Daydreamer
I dress in black to a funeral to mourn someone that i used to know and linger let her haunt me like a mantra   her former skin her former bones   her former heart her former mind her former strength her former spectra   funny how i am the ghost the pale phantom in her mirrored image standing over my former self.
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Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 3:06 AM UTC
Specter
Extravagantly exorbitant mentality panacea Pretentious eidetic’s ubiquity mnemonics Extraversion embezzlement extortion mens rea Endergonic laconic cacophony phonics Preterite rendition enclitic equilibrist motion Mystic symbiosis dharma spiritual sky Brusque macabre abjections the gist of the potion Straight up forever ontology on high Obdurately abstruse vituperatively vociferous Juxtaposition apparition myriad avarice Orotund sonorous diction obliquitous Multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis Mirador bartizan phantasmagoria aesthetics Guidon gyration excursion integration Sorcerous alchemizing interstitial endemics   Chaos charisma objectified tribulation Conjurous apothegms clitoral apomixis Exude emote surrogate extrapolation Astral projection littoral hypotaxis Kinetic supremacy homogeneity gravitation Coercible coalescent cohesion dexterities Adjunct conjunction conjecture acuity Platonic pragmatic prosaic austerities Extemporaneous impromptu innuendo fortuity Propinquity habitation harbinger spectra Perplexing paradox tenacity rostra Intensely cogitational abstract mantra Penumbral exigency , umbrage per contra Theoretical incursion grandiloquent ne plus ultra Exogamy of homoplasy sic itur ad astra Quiescent serendipity surreal anestra
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Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 12:37 PM UTC
Asylum
asteroids were beautifully created to ebb to the misconceived vastness of the galaxy yet they are still known to be perilous. to lessen damages and fatalities, scientists eagerly observe when an asteroid is going towards our vicinity. and you, i never expected that you’d be an asteroid to my life. you may be a planetesimal, but i’ve always revolved around your presence like you’re the center of my whole life. you approached me, and i accepted you, never knowing that you’d rescind my existence for a while. thanks for leaving me like i’m just an insignificant piece of wreckage, i needed to know your encapsulating spectra, anyway. you destroyed me, yes. but you destroyed me gorgeously.
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Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
class collision
Monochrome landscape Too subtle to perceive well Looming dark-ling shapes Seeping nocturnal spectra But above, stars incandesce
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Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 11:40 PM UTC
No Moon
If you saw me I might be upside down, Different spectra of vibrations Pulsing from my goosebumped knees. I imagine if I sweep my arms back and forth Across the benthic stretches of our skies I may feel your structure In the crease of my thumb. I reach my hand out to touch you. Your elbow is somewhere in space, Bent a certain posture. It's possibly inverted, But it could be rigid and reaching for my hair. I think your forehead may point toward my collarbone, Protruding like deer antlers. In your universe my collarbone looks different, Objects that will never be metaphoric molds for my words, But exist in every third line of your poetry You may or may not write. In-between our possible distance There are millions of bodies, Or just a few. Neither of these options we can see Or touch. We will never know how close our blinks are. Yet I can feel my breath rush down my chin, Knowing if we ever found each other Your exhale would twist into mine.
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Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 12:51 AM UTC
Lightyear Distance Relationship
“For God’s sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of Kings.” The smell of fresh grasses lefts stifled underfoot, A thousand tiny voices, wheaten, bug, or no, Can call up to the elderly trees, whose white palms Gave surrender only moments ago to this wandering eye. To think, I am but that hole of many in a chain Of lattices made only by their breakage, For I relinquish myself to the spirit or biology Two gods my life’s work has been to destroy. The sun comes through that shattered mat of life A fallen crest, defining the morose bedding of Victim and trap, so that I may hear it speaking; Strung up and dragging on its gaunt, breathless rot It claims a stupid animal lived in this body once, Relinquished itself by flight to the unwavering, silky Thread of beautiful frailness, or motionless spectra, Thus, it deserves to lose what it did not want Since it did not flee life, it did not flee death. I wanted to study it more, enchanted by the hollowness Until water came onto my brow, fell onto my passive lips Uttering, till then, a prayer to fly from here, Till my eyes color over and I’ve finally escaped. But, this motif, I see, is overplayed, too trite For secular gods who prefer the wiles of game We, the peak of human life, I the most sufferable of them I, the most thirsting of my image, tend to consume. If it were boredom, then plagues would sweep hot winds Everywhere; thus, it is not, it is the constant reminder, We are but nothing, but flesh to die, unwitting flies To the spider’s web.
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Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC
Canto 2
“For God’s sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of Kings.” The smell of fresh grasses lefts stifled underfoot, A thousand tiny voices, wheaten, bug, or no, Can call up to the elderly trees, whose white palms Gave surrender only moments ago to this wandering eye. To think, I am but that hole of many in a chain Of lattices made only by their breakage, For I relinquish myself to the spirit or biology Two gods my life’s work has been to destroy. The sun comes through that shattered mat of life A fallen crest, defining the morose bedding of Victim and trap, so that I may hear it speaking; Strung up and dragging on its gaunt, breathless rot It claims a stupid animal lived in this body once, Relinquished itself by flight to the unwavering, silky Thread of beautiful frailness, or motionless spectra, Thus, it deserves to lose what it did not want Since it did not flee life, it did not flee death. I wanted to study it more, enchanted by the hollowness Until water came onto my brow, fell onto my passive lips Uttering, till then, a prayer to fly from here, Till my eyes color over and I’ve finally escaped. But, this motif, I see, is overplayed, too trite For secular gods who prefer the wiles of game We, the peak of human life, I the most sufferable of them I, the most thirsting of my image, tend to consume. If it were boredom, then plagues would sweep hot winds Everywhere; thus, it is not, it is the constant reminder, We are but nothing, but flesh to die, unwitting flies To the spider’s web.
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Extravagantly exorbitant mentality panacea Pretentious eidetic’s ubiquity mnemonics Extraversion embezzlement extortion mens rea Endergonic laconic cacophony phonics Preterite rendition enclitic equilibrist motion Mystic symbiosis dharma spiritual sky Brusque macabre abjections the gist of the potion Straight up forever ontology on high Obdurately abstruse vituperatively vociferous Juxtaposition apparition myriad avarice Orotund sonorous diction complicitous Multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis Mirador bartizan phantasmagoria aesthetics Guidon gyration excursion integration Sorcerous alchemizing interstitial endemics   Chaos charisma objectified tribulation Conjurous apothegms clitoral apomixis Exude emote surrogate extrapolation Astral projection littoral hypotaxis Kinetic supremacy homogeneity gravitation Coercible coalescent cohesion dexterities Adjunct conjunction conjecture acuity Platonic pragmatic prosaic austerities Extemporaneous impromptu innuendo fortuity Propinquity habitation harbinger spectra Perplexing paradox tenacity rostra Intensely cogitational abstract mantra Penumbral exigency , umbrage per contra Theoretical incursion grandiloquent ne plus ultra Exogamy of homoplasy sic itur ad astra Quiescent serendipity surreal anestra
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Jul 15, 2021
Jul 15, 2021 at 9:18 PM UTC
Asylum
Ugly pensive shuddering blah dee dah Wondering where the wind is Holding back for god knows what Crippled by ghosts with long ropes Making a spectra out of myself Passive abuse waiting for the sunrise That never comes Because the sun only sets On the travelers journey And the wind only blows At the command of Demigods The time is nigh
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Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 8:09 PM UTC
Clunking Along
So you are a man, Shackled, A man that weaves Together fear and confusion Beyond what is known skin deep, A man overblown with Certain landscapes and familiarity. What words come out From your version of Heaven, From your Heaven to other lands, The red winds that blow deep Tickling strings of rhetoric Listen, You are what misunderstood Like a certain star that refuses To pass light in certain spectra, Different star, Wrong star, Dying star, And your sky will be taken away By hypnotic cages And civilized torture Speak, speak a confession citizen When you are found Guilty and your manhood Is bled into submission, You will see no sunsets, You will bear a cross never your own You, man, Born in the tide of crystalline confusion, The world is predicted And the tombs are full of The innocent by faith I tell you because I am a man, And I do not know what kind you are Problems, they are problems, Is it you who blow up the constellations? You dance on the heels of Jihad, Do you not? Are you not guilty by faith? Now that the angels cry, Tossed into the fray of which God Is holier, Tell me, is this fair, Fair the torment, Fair the fear, Fair the justice of manipulation? Answer me, answer me Man of faith, Because I too am confused, I am bound by love of country, Yet tormented by ethics and morals, ****** this humanity! Now, now I must know, I am splintered into many people, However I am also your friend, The day burns with rhetoric, I do not know you man, I cannot seem to help you, Much less help my understanding And soon, Soon I am called unpatriotic, They shall call me traitor, Because I wish to understand. All I say, All I know, Tell me, Why have they caged you? Say nothing, I can't believe you, Say everything, I doubt every breath. And now I speak as a man, I speak to you, I am a poet, And to write humanity is my curse, No allusions, No metaphorical terms, You Muslim, You Man, I do not understand: On the moon God watches On the wind the angels cry, And men do not speak, They cannot understand.
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Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 5:16 PM UTC
The Muslim , The Man
So you are a man, Shackled, A man that weaves Together fear and confusion Beyond what is known skin deep, A man overblown with Certain landscapes and familiarity. What words come out From your version of Heaven, From your Heaven to other lands, The red winds that blow deep Tickling strings of rhetoric Listen, You are what misunderstood Like a certain star that refuses To pass light in certain spectra, Different star, Wrong star, Dying star, And your sky will be taken away By hypnotic cages And civilized torture Speak, speak a confession citizen When you are found Guilty and your manhood Is bled into submission, You will see no sunsets, You will bear a cross never your own You, man, Born in the tide of crystalline confusion, The world is predicted And the tombs are full of The innocent by faith I tell you because I am a man, And I do not know what kind you are Problems, they are problems, Is it you who blow up the constellations? You dance on the heels of Jihad, Do you not? Are you not guilty by faith? Now that the angels cry, Tossed into the fray of which God Is holier, Tell me, is this fair, Fair the torment, Fair the fear, Fair the justice of manipulation? Answer me, answer me Man of faith, Because I too am confused, I am bound by love of country, Yet tormented by ethics and morals, ****** this humanity! Now, now I must know, I am splintered into many people, However I am also your friend, The day burns with rhetoric, I do not know you man, I cannot seem to help you, Much less help my understanding And soon, Soon I am called unpatriotic, They shall call me traitor, Because I wish to understand. All I say, All I know, Tell me, Why have they caged you? Say nothing, I can't believe you, Say everything, I doubt every breath. And now I speak as a man, I speak to you, I am a poet, And to write humanity is my curse, No allusions, No metaphorical terms, You Muslim, You Man, I do not understand: On the moon God watches On the wind the angels cry, And men do not speak, They cannot understand.
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86
A spectra of wonders Scattered across the vastness of the sky Only to be lost in the wave of time. ~ Umi
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May 29, 2022
May 29, 2022 at 4:06 AM UTC
Light