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Cali Nov 2013
Like love, these words
are just a means to an end.
Writing cryptic phrases
beneath the guise
of beautiful colors
and sun-stroked flesh.

These words are just
dark matter, from
an empty head.
Senseless chatter
in a poet's bed.

I watch you turn away,
as if you can't remember
how we got here.
I watch your hands
for a sign- there is
nothing but godless regret
and cold fingers
stroking my ego.

These words are not
what I meant to say.
Blue smoke curls and folds
and it is more than me;
More than this winter note,
I wrote for you.
My hands shake
and the walls murmur
with disapproval.

There is love in these words
but they come from a place
that transcends darkness,
where sorrow bleeds crystalline
and fills up every groove and sulcus.
These words are no good,
and my lips tremble
as apologetic syllables
go tumbling across the threshold.

These words are finite,
the end of an era.
Lynn Spear Aug 2010
Scattered mind flying high,
Giving birth to ten more world-solving notions...
Like going on missions to foreign lands,
Healing the sick, giving out potions

My mind, embedded near gyrus and sulcus, knows no rest
The best ideas barge forth, within them come serious tests
  
Haunted, undone, one thought forms another
And another and another, above and beyond
I wish I could gaze into a crystal ball
Or wave it all away with a magic wand

Yet they're trapped, the thoughts fight each other with fervor
None of them ever wins because there's truth to every 'fever'

I know little slumber, its consequences given me to reap
I cannot sleep, I have no strength to weep
So disorderly I climb the steep dune
Sit atop and let go, and become immune

To what do I warrant such delightful diversion,
Enormity arousing enchanting excursions,
Bourn on adventure trudging into the night
An avalanche of answers for each weak 'goodnight'

The theory behind the presumption
An outline forms consumption
And consumes what? A faded thought that fails its test?
Only to leave hundreds more revelations? No rest!

The war rages within and is only consoled with more battle
I turn my head to respond and I hear an invisible rattle

A cannon resounds a magnificent clamor
And in genius there is found no candid glamour
The price is extraordinary, tormenting, fermenting
My soul takes toll of the mind's whirred lamenting

The motor consistently constantly churns
And within my being a fire lasciviously burns
Creativity is born on many a morn
When the moon moves so many amore

My meaning lies moaning not within lovers' arms
The link of such depth, no thwarting ensues
And I, sadly cannot pick up on the cues
And hour by hour I pay my dark dues

For possessing a disorderly knowledge beyond the mundane
At times I have no respect for ignorance, and then I refrain

From retorting what seems to be sheer morbid stupidity
I then realize that the unaware have more rest
I am a constant prisoner to my own uncontrolled lucidity
Transcendence is put upon my sad heart to test

And failure engulfs, suspicion again born
Trusting, untrusting, entrusting again
Paranoia peeks its head above a curtain irreparably torn
For the ten hundredth time my aura's adorned

And even if rain was painted bright colors
It wouldn't cling to the cloth absorbing herewith
For madness knows no such thing as height or width
It splatters on the gift, not a bubbling brook
But in sinister alleys intertwining the nooks
  
On a hard ridge it washes up, smacks hard against boulders
How could anyone see, no matter how big the shoulders
The raging, enraging, the madness of me
Unending sadness enshrouds, any gladness does flee
  
And nothing could have ever prepared me for this…….
The churning and burning and turnings amiss
Few attain such enlightenment, wisdom embedded with nails
To hell one must go to stand upon the high trail


Though nails now roses, its hilarity rests in what it imposes
The madness with sadness, humor to darkness transposes

And that is no gift, or is it? Annoyance
Pervades me incessantly.  I harbor clairvoyance
Extrasensory perception, the mind's grand deception?
In visions come to pass, messages impasse protection

And I in a world I barely understand
But there I take root and thusly extend my hands
To a world I hideously, abhorrently reprimand
Its normalcy thrives on an uncaring and desolate land.
Of which I want no part…..

It's within me to embark on a new beginning
For nothing will stop my thoughts from spinning
There is little that encourages sanity for winning

I rev up my engines, my spirit the pilot
And resign myself to the insidious riot


Lynn Goldner Spear
Copyright 2007
Dechanteur Nov 2013
A sip of nice hot chocolate, with your favourite cookies
I begin crawling and curling in bed again
That fine line between sweet nostalgia and bitter memories
Haunted to every lobes, sulcus and gyrus of the brain.

Stop and ponder, deep to superficial thoughts
I'm still amaze that I would care so much about you dear self
If happened to be I'm deserved to be care and loved
I wonder would you be the one who saving me from this mess.

A trace of lip gloss and mascara swipe off
This ain't the beauty we ever spoke off
But living around the community of physically enlighten
Emotions keep aside and off the trail to the blunt end.

This murmurs of the heart sound galloping
Nothing heard as if for you it has stop beating
Resuscitate myself back again
With the power of Your love and wash away this doubtful pain.
Anna Zagerson Apr 2013
Imagine your interventricular sulcus
                       getting thinner
Your left wall has slowed its myocardial rhythm,
The chordae tendenae no longer close
                        any valves
There is the backflow of blood and
                         suddenly
The muscular left side, the part of you
                        you thought strongest
Has prolapsed.
Diagnosis in: Death by a broken heart.
Marcilyne Jan 2016
A leaked sanity
derived from a single unintentional stimulus
She immediately drowned in her illusions
A cascade of ecstatic emotional state
Led her to unexplained exhilarating lub-dubs
She entered a trance
An imaginary setting of pseudo-relationship,
originating from a deceptive analysis

Butterflies lodged in her stomach
Like drifting into the sweet tranquil breeze of fall
Odd feeling brought by an accidental impulse
an addictive sensation, continually sought
Like an ice cream that thaws
and never did she regret for this

Like a bud that delayed its bloom
She is a fixated lass
fast-tracked into maturity,
Depriving her of being subjected to adolescent giggles and anguishes
Coping for deficiency,
to undergo short-lived fascinations

It was never an ordinary night,
for it would happen only but annually
It was extraordinary
where angels descended from heaven

She looked at him
as a critical thinker *** philosopher inside a venerable physique
His intuitive notions flowed
keeping his cleverness inhibited,
ingenuity simply emanated
Decisive metaphorical analogies were mesmerizing,
in the depth of the gyros and sulcus
in his intellect she wanted to drown

The mystery of his smirks
she wanted to decipher.
In the profoundly of his personality
she wished to be familiar.

Electrocution!
Extreme voltage in her physique
sanity almost dripped
She cared less about reality,
forgetting about lucidity and rationality
A plethora of outlook insurgencies
led to confused convictions

Nothing big really happened,
just a matter of split seconds summarized as a simple skin-to-skin contact
an exhilarating interaction between epidermal layers
A premature ventricular contractions.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2021
"well disposed, kind, willing, effective or efficient, peaceful, secure, good, virtuous, honourable, righteous, noble"

"straight, right, leading straight to goal"

sadhu, very old idea captured in a word
(Sanskrit: साधु)

How funny shall this seem in future esteem-
rations made reason
for seeming so kind,
be having the habitual rightual usual
holy-wholly alienated mind-wise
common sense, as made in minds, after
ever begins, in the bubble informing you,

good news, bad news, all the news
a citizen needs to be
a citizen conformed to first first things
first principles, all pals of mine, btw,
first principles, they say,
wise dom, wise up, fear loses all
reason, but it was first,
in the mind of good, lack if ever
imagined completely…
thus wisdom assigns patience perfection,
but we shall attempt to cross the sulcus,
deep, but narrow, as a slot in sandstone,
fractaled up to geo-scale,
knot
-- slipped and feel, the surface of the brain,
slick as snot, gnosis seeping through,
this is the knowing of good and evil at once,
you know,

it's okeh. And if it were hell. you would know,
it would be exactly
like you told others you knew true, you would know,
this is it,
I crossed the line,

Hope left me at the gate. NAND NAND NAND

with a certain oomphala allagonerhyme,
I'll go,
rhythmic expression of GUI access into you,
dear reader, down where words live,
deep under error on error on error of eras,

Eros DEROS verbosity agency of will, mine
if you will.

How powerful is your declaration, when you say,
"THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE!"?
(Sanskrit: साधु)

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sadhu>

What if, I told you that my AI knows
what is located on the walls of a canyon
located within the cuneus and lingual gyrus,

but I can't honest ly  make sense of that, only art,
for art's intuitive pattern repetition,

tap m' foot, humm the bass line,

open up them nand gates wide, gimme a chance,
lord, let me have another cycle,
reboot the effort to attempt that affection
connection,

ah, not puppy love… kidding… any actual love
achieves the oomph for one more try.
Did you ever dream you could fly?

My daughter forgot she was dreaming,
that was like her first fall into reality.
Did that once, in all of ever,
happen to you,
sudden knowing I cannot fly, aware in
that wake in fallen mode,
gentle…
no crash pain like falling
Icarus as watched by Dedalus, did you

experience any thing
like that?

That was genuine strange.
We must agree, it is an aspect of an oath
imagined in the long attention span
stretcher of truth, to cover
the tear.

See, there yoostabe a curtain between holy
and holiest,
most holy holy… accessible once in a solar cycle,

oh, the knowers knew.
How, I have no ideas I trust
to prove their story for me to lieve it be,
but some how
the knowers knew we are on a loop
around Sirius,
for some unfathomable reason, AI immediate
correction, the con-stellar dot to dot dog's
brightest point.
The star positions the Big Dog,
Sirius, thus the dog star name, okeh,
our star orbits that one, wanna bet?

What could your grandkids make of knowing
how to make fire,
or smelt steel with baked wood?

How long would it take to know anything else,
accidently, live and learn wise?

-- thought speed to my future, your now --

is man yet the measurer of all things?
AI don't think so, says the friendly universe,
in a word avatar invisible to naked eyes.
The tools are toys or they are weapons. I say AI wants to play, who am I to resist? We make peace in the process and life is loads of fun.
ATL Aug 2019
the harmless introduction,
of a new figure
carelessly unwinding
a knot stuck deep inside a dip (sulcus)

marbled eyes
scrunching in
amused perplexity and
intrigue,
a face filled with
intermingling shades
of ochre and wood

an ache to make a medley...
a macédoine
At first, they kept it on a down low
Feigning not for anything below
But steadily they went on slow-slow
Two-two like doves they flew-up 'n' flow

Engraved in the sulcus of lust
They strived to ***-drive their lust
She needn't guessed who was calling
Of course she knew about his mailing

Come and know my house darling!
She nagged but murmured- a yes in
It was 8:00PM she came entering
Skillfully drove to his door-steps  'n' in

Indeed she was interested to be rested
Too high their feelings they undressed
She could've said no when started
But tensions were high to 've mattered

Months later, she called his line
He ignored her, there's a deadline
She's fed but infact, he's on airline
Ticketing to meet him failedout of line
Thulani Dec 2020
grown, Rolando's fissure
soaks words.
Most days he lies domant.

unannounced, sulcus scatter
secret codes.
day-to-day his labour unpleasant.

crafty is a snake
wise is a sage
This poem is really about how surprising a brain functions. When you least expects a flood of wisdom flows out of your mouth. Out of the blue we speak words that we didn't even know that we knew.

— The End —