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Life, and other drugs;
Feel the love, and stuff.
You've got the right to get
****** up. You think I'm out
of line? Don't worry, I feel fine.
For reals.

Urban tiger on the prowl,
"Welcome to the jungle,"
Where everybody's a night owl.

Nocturnal habits
of the after-party crowd.
"You're in the jungle baby".
T'survive here y'gotta be proud.

I want to touch sublime, surpass divinity,
Exceed apotheosis to new beginnings;
Extra-terrestrial narcotics binge.
Quotes:
Lines Seven and Eleven from Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N' Roses
Salto Angel dances an Aqua-Skirt
Such Fashion pleased the Tourists below
How else can the Latin earn your Fervour
But surpass your Record of height and snow?
Funny, how her Majesty can suppress
Even more when viewing up from this Point
Like a Crone who often tries to oppress
A Revolt which a Priest failed to Anoint
And lowering my Camera, I see
The many Prizes I did Hit-and-Miss
But she roared with showers raining gently
And, enough! They saw Rainbows turn to bliss.
So I sat on a Rock to watch and live
Hoping my Partner would rise to forgive.
Another Jun 2018
The first sign of a dream approaching is that when you’ve already awoken,
awoken to a strange place with no trace of how you could’ve gotten there.
And the unfamiliar, faces near, with eyes similar to shards– shaded  
you can’t help but notice those feelings emitted were somehow something you’ve come to known before,
but where?
–a notion coursing its way around a soundless observatory only to further dissipation—
A sign of discord covers the room,
all that was allowed is furthest from you,
a parched paper made from what seemed like rugged twine knows nothing but lead between,    you find a face emerging from it,
quickly drawn with detail,
there it stops from motion to undulating surpass,
away from a darkened room up in front of a morning taking.
This conjuring source flairs outward
rising through the outworn canvas
leading it to embers
dancing away along a fizzled plane
for what was despair inscribed in this meaningful dereliction.
To what is empty from emotion is nonexistent,
I couldn’t find the reason to live on,
this dream has died as will I... as will the will of this way this place carries over me.
Yes decay follows me,
unto everywhere will there be the silent breezes to carry me past the concrete terrain into nothingness.
I find myself to live this over,
until the advent of air drowns these lungs to knowing again,
to know exactly what it means to breathe again.
I see no reason for such things as unrealistic as they may seem likely for me to occur in this living.
Again I’m stuck in a room full of my owns thoughts,
such a dangerously sorrowful place to be.
‘For everything as it may have not been
weary am I for looking forward at
The things that never happened’

‘Turning over everyday, repetitively’

Let’s just say that this isn’t personal but for those whom share a common fate. Until overturned.
In its most rawest.
5.3

Parallels:
Snow, for me exemplifies a mute understanding from in juxtaposition with various types of sadnesses that branch off into disparately inclined yearnings, to nostalgic preferences, whether known or not. Why it happens is of course obvious but the way it affects you, makes one wonder, if at all— I think I’m trailing off my train of though here, I’m not sure where this is going..

This was inspired by a remarkable composer, as I recalled a dream before, along with the yearning of trying to expose my underlying expansion of myself with my current understanding of things. what it all could mean as much of his cello’s presence affected me during that process. I’m the gray area that needs deciphering.

—continuations:
the cello that wails the loudest, is one that suffers the most. Even so, every tone encapsulates the listener with resonance. And in that, it reaches its utmost vulnerability, showing the many hues imbedded in an infinite sadness, in an astronomical way, a type of exquisite somber, that resides in the instrument’s hollowness until implementation of procedure.
DivineDao Sep 2016
.

Bloom
Baloon


Shaking  sea
Trembling   tea



Crescent  water  cascade
Winter     frost's    minuet





Coelhos pyramids over sand dunes
Surpass  star siblings passing runes








Poets trembling in the blizzard of the numinous
*Visceral name given gifts giving rememberance like luminous
*













Love





















*   **  ***  *****  ********  *************
Always which the Human in me surpass
When Trite Reunion comes to much Expect
Between us, Birth-Father, the Heart must last
And configure our Values circumspect
After seeing those skinned neighbours battle
And DAD the Inspiration I preserve
Comes your Striking Counsel; Which I rattle
And reimburse the Love you so deserve
But, if Favour pleads, renew the Bald Man
Whose Birthdate his Arm's Course Affection share
Teach this Tanned Diver; To widen his span
Knowing such Open Hands breed Anywhere.
Circles are Dangerous, if Minds are locked
He needs to KNOW that; From his own Best Hug.
Bijan Rabiee Aug 2018
The essence of love
Runs atop pillars of space
Anticipating to transform
The oblivious by-standers
Into inflicters of righteous pain
The pain that will set free
The reins of resistence,
Foreshadowing portals
Of everlasting beattitude.
The songs have all been sung
Yet not one has been able
To surpass the nightingale's
Who spins the sweetest darkness
Without a tinge of temptation.
The rhythms that fall upon thee
Speak eons of platitude
Of pedestrian coronation
Of revelation devised
Where the upshot is
Synchronized syndrom
That eats away the spirit
Like canker.
The flow of love
Is not a smooth ride
Like a luxury car on open road
Love's code is candor
That suffocates without killing
To reveal the lofty window
Toward unearthly meadows.
xavier thomas Jan 14
Surpass limitations of a promised prophet,
No man can ever break your spirit of value.
It is the show and seal of nature's flawless,
My only mother, I will always love you.

I give you a lot of credit when know one else will.
Continue to work on your craft mama it’s an amazing skill.
Mastery of Sacrifices and unselfishness.

When I ask God for guidance,
He tells me to call on you.
Reminiscing faith on reliance
You never want me to quit, just push through.

You were given the last name “Rose” that describes a strong independent woman as
fierce as Wonder Woman; Yet,  are my greatest hero.
Valiantly I step—
Surpassing the lines they drew.
Captive I was kept—
Lastingly untrue.
I’ve scaled the walls that stand—
In attempt to block out the sky.
Each foothold precisely planned—
Where limitations refuse to die.

Not stopping at infinity,
I must encompass all.
Not like that of divinity,
But beyond any bounded call.
Do not say eternity,
For short it will have to fall,
No word, no thought, no feeling,
Could possibly surpass it all.

I’ve relaxed in meditation—
And explored the unconscious mind.
Then left all known perception
To see what was there to find.
Transcending comprehension
Leaving nothingness behind,
To witness the perfection
Outside of space and time.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2013
Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay (Razor Blades, Pills, & Shotguns)*

Sittin' on the dock of the bay,
Watching the sun slip, Simon-says, slide away,
Cheeks blushing flushing from orange ray-guns,
Drinking blush rosé to oil our eyes
For the subtle story the sky shortly will reveal,
For the subtle story the sky shortly will revel.

Grievous judgement to make,
Thinkin' skills possessed to praise,
When but yesterday I easy confessed,
At the Blue Canoe I did not.

(The clouds were magnificent. No, I cannot write a poem about the cloud colors. Their shape shifting inexhaustible.  Mine eyes high on their creativity.  I'm just not good enough a poet to tamper with that sky.)*

If you courage enough to
Call yourself poet, then
It is audacity, not blood,
Warming your extremities,
So foolishly try, always be prepared to fail.

No impulse. We pledged that tonight, ours,
One hour of sunset over Silver Beach.
Brought the wine, forgot the pillows,
So Abraham & Sarah went prepared to sacrifice
All feelings in their butts for the greater glory
Of love and one of nature's great poetic challenges..

The conundrum~miracle of every sunset
O'er bay, lake or ocean, is its special,
Only-In-Nature unique way of customizing
Its descent just for you.

No matter where one observes,
No matter where you worship,
Wherever your temple, mosque or church situé,
Tennessee, Rhode Island, the Philippines,
Germany, Colombia, even in the ole U.K.,
(yes, you, know it, yes you)
The very same setting sun we all see,
Sends a magic dazzle gold orange path invitation
To the exact spot you are voyeuring,
One sun, all destinations equal before human.

How can that be?

Trepidation and tremblingly,
The clouds.

She leans on me, a perfect fit,
My back resting against a pylon,
So we see the clouds
With common exactitude,
But it is a quiet time, silence only shared.
Images stored silently within ourselves,
For we see the formation, man, woman,
Precisely and exactly, totally differently.

The clouds.
An armada moving imperial and imperiously
At a stately speed, saying I am awesome, fear me.
The largest cloud bank is an aircraft carrier,
Miles long, painted horizon blue-grey unsurprisingly.

The small white wisps, fast destroyers, stealthy submarines,
Moving fast to protect the mother ship,
Running random to confuse enemy radar and the
Pathetic, limited, human eye.

The colors.
Here I fail willingly, unashamedly.
So many sunsets, so many hearts,
All different, all the same.
Lacking knowledge, I cannot tender,
I cannot offer you tenderness to love
Enough,
The variety of oranges, gold, varietals interspersed
By the pinks, the cornea, singed,
And mock myself for all my meager brain yields is
Good Humor creamsicle comparison...a delicious irony

You who write after midnight
Of razor blades, pills and shotguns,
And not marked two decades even, on this planet,
You want hard,
Write a poem about a sunset in ways never done before.

You, who are wracked with despair
Speak to the man with no job for months
And mouths to feed and a life insurance policy.
Speak to me.

I want to tell you to get over yourself,
But you reject that old saw. Ok.
Get onto to yourself.

I have walked the hallways of deep despair,
Heard the bells ring between periods that signal only the next
Hell,
And to this day, still do,
But still I try to write external of sunsets and greater glories.

How many lives depend on you? Are you proud of your weakness?
Do you hate me yet for acknowledging out loud,
We are both cowards?

I have five mouths to feed,
Before I parse a morsel.
Two less than two,
What do you have but to
Grow yourself?

Yeah coward.
Too yellow to write about a
Yellow sunset, cause that is hard in a way incomprehensible
Until tried.
Or the passing of your mother who could not speak clearly
But you, thru her eyes knew that she had poems to yet recite.
Run away like I did ashamed with frustrated failure.
Why should I coddle, give you easy soft?
.
If you come here to share, well and good.
If you come here to find comfort, good.
So gaze upon these words and feel
The love that only experience has earned.

What do you know of heartbreak?
Imprisoned for decades in a loveless life,
I walked by the water nightly,
Yes, the same waters where I CinemaScoped
Yesterday's sunset, and walked away.

You can read about if you look it, look me, look here,
Look up!

So do something hard, something external.
Fail but love yourself more for just having tried.
Then try something else.

The saddest poem ever wrote
Was not yours, where you titillate with daring words
Razors, pills etc.,
The saddest poem ever writ
Was this one, a meager vanity to capture a
Sunset that keeps trying every day to
Surpass
Supersede
Its previous glorious failure,
Like we should too.
Keep trying

Now, I shall rest,
For I know that soon I shall see, feel, think,
Of something new that will make me eager to
Write a new poem.


August 3~5, 2013
When I am less tired, I wil edit the typos. But life is full of typos, but sometimes you just gotta not look back, even if you leave a trail of typos behind you. But writing this has mentally exhausted me in a different way.  I will rest from writing to recover. Dig out some old ones, maybe

If you courage enough to
Call yourself poet, then
It is audacity, not blood,
Warming your extremities,
So foolishly try, always be prepared to fail.
In a place by the lake stood a tall willow tree
It's roots stretching down far beyond where I could see
At first glance I admire its elegant beauty
But there's more than meets the eye, I learned fool-heartedly
Its melancholy dance in the cool summer breeze
Mesmerizes my senses and is enough to please
Then the reflection in the lake made it all too clear
The willow is my love but there's no need to fear
Behind her dark eyes is a cloudy sky
A girl living in fear who's dying to cry
I can see you hiding behind that brave face
Exhausted from a journey you thought was going no place
The tears I see fall are like rain from the sky
Or the branches of the willow that keep this place dry
The leaves that drape down are protecting you so
Concealing the emotions that you don't want to show
The path you traveled is something you thought you'd never surpass
Like walking down a road of rusty nails and broken glass
Like a broken heart, your feet have been torn
Yet you go on beaten and continue to mourn
But the road you walk knows another poor soul
I've been down it too, and I've paid my toll
And the secrets you kept hidden from plain sight
Are now exposed to me in the mystic moonlight
And when you weep like the willow, please know this to be true
I'll love you forever, even when the skies ahead aren't blue

-AJT
I painted you into my life,
I listened to your laughter like it was a lullaby,
and your voice was more than a sonnet, a prose, a novel
I would wish to read with infinite pages; infinite lines.
I dived into your soul when I saw your eyes; and they were one.
I wondered how the planets orbited in us,
while our moment frosted I wish we didn't surpass.
Perhaps that's how both our universes commingled.
Perhaps that's why I painted you into my life,
I listened to your laughter inside my head, I didn't know why.
And your voice played all day long, I could write a poetry with never ending lines.
I dived into my tears when you were mean,
I wondered how could the moon and the sky
would allow our nights to be saddened; the darkness with the absence of us.
Perhaps that's why both our universes were suddenly non-aligned.

... Still in the array, wondering if our souls would still collide
or might be menaced in the oblivion of each separate existence;
or could I exist unattached?
Should I survive unattached when I lived in you,
when
I
belong
to
you?
jerelii Apr 2015
When everything makes you fall into pieces always remember that you deserve to be a better person, deserves to love because you are beautiful in that way! and also you deserve to be loved. But before you can give out your love to someone else always put this in your mind that you shouldn't be quick for love & unexpectedly love will just come on your corner at the right time it may be sound so weird but who knows. Be patient! & remember to love yourself more, sometimes it's okay to be selfish. Meet new people, surround yourself with positive people, discover or learn new things/skills, travel to some places & embrace yourself more! It's okay to cry, to laugh or to be gone crazy. It's okay to be fool out of love. It's okay to be hurt too much. You will realize & learn eventually. Life it isn't perfect nor fair enough in the midst of the society. Yes, it is a survival of the fittest. Learn the hard way! Be competetive pssh i mean in this world you should be at least fight for your own weaknesses cause I know you are stronger than this & you can surpass this trials. Smile once in awhile. And it is okay to be alone you know!; go to a coffee shop, play in the rain & dance in the middle of the night,You can learn so much from yourself as you will get to used of it.
Being alone it doesn't mean that there's no fun. Well in fact it is the best credits that you could give out to yourself! More time to think & spend & much wiser to be serious in falling in love.
you can only find true love
within yourself!
so people can love you the way you are
:)

jerelii
04.12.15
Copyright
Carter Ginter Jul 2017
You’re poisonous and I’m addicted to
the burning in my throat, it’s wildfire
with each word you share, lightly brushing stories
of the topics I most detest and cannot
force myself to simply forget. So
instead, I try to shrug it off with darker tales
from my past, but you continue
and surpass them with ease,
these claws of flames only rising,
tearing into my soul, soon to combust with
my distress and rage.
I dramatize an unethical kiss with a boy,
you mention five more; I hint at a taste
for Captain’s, you prefer wraps and bowls.
The newly tasted nicotine tears at my
lungs, simply to spite you: you smoke it,
so why can’t I?
Backfire.
I am no longer smart
enough to accept things as they are,
to my knees I surrender to your soul, but
I cannot let go of the grudges and the confusing discomfort
that comes with learning certain personal traits of yours. I cannot
live in vulnerability below you, but these concrete bones
cement my legs to the floor,
so, instead, I blaze my own morals with
my own choices, putting my health at risk
with my own stupidity,
creating new vices, this poisoning smoke,
and a dependence on more
than just myself.
I wrote this two years ago about my girlfriend at the time. I did not post it back then because she asked me not to because it made her look bad.
Umi Jun 2018
Highly explosive,
Thus, a term to explain the thoughts rushing to the iron maiden's head as she fires away a salvo of pure affection, passion and warmth,
The heat is unbearable, the impact, such as the afterglow, surpass the rising sun, with a noble, golden light spread across the painful wound
Melting away in the sweet embrace of her devotion, this is surely fate.
Through the veins of this girl, lust for the one she adores is building up, racing within her blood, all she wants is for her feelings to be returned, but alike the sun when it shines with such beauty, it cannot happen, the closer one gets to her the more he will be burnt .
But surely, serenety relies within lonesome thoughts, moments and the time, in which her wish has been ceased to be ever fulfilled.
Yet, as a single dandelion, which is raised with attention and care can turn a whole, lethal dessert into an allure, lively and gentle garden;
She too can find someone, who will withstand her passion, burn up in it and shine with her without vanishing, carried away by time.
After all, the light of love is for all to be litten.

~ Umi
Heavy Hearted Feb 2017
1, for the slumber that tumbles us round,
2, for the remedy, the musics bold sound.
3, for the tree that became your canoe
& 4 for the rain, it's ambiguous blue.

5, to escape, to a world we contrive,
6 for the tricks that I played to survive.
7, because heaven, is supposedly on earth,
& 8 for my mother, and her unknown worth.
9 for the failures, the faults & mistakes,
10 for the fears that keep us awake.

11, for my father, consoles me each night, whispers advice crystal clear, filled with insight- words on courage & kindness, love & delight.
12- when you wake but it's already night.
13 forever, with strength glory and might,
14 with wisdom, discretion, insight-
both numbers together sizing up every fight.

15, for my little sister, and all her turmoil,
15, for her spirit, the last one to spoil,
she and the world but water and oil,
15 for her soul, and like the mighty cobra it's coil,
deadly & graceful defends its home soil.

16 for the evil- the wicked & cruel, the endless hate they spin into fuel.
17, for reason, justice & art,
and all the other virtues life etched on my heart,
18, to redeem, to admit your mistake, to truly move on then perhaps to retake.
19 for that shame, always the same, so familiar it almost comforts my brain. 19, for the suffering, agony & betrayal.
19 true stories retold as mere tales- how they surpass logic and induce other's fails.

20. For my years. For the moment, for now. For to the past I salute, and to the future I bow; All with the hope that next year I'll know how

to do what everyone else can.
Don Bouchard Aug 2018
Cicadas whine metallically
In trees along the sweltered streets;
Wasps and hornets arc angrily
Enough to cause me fear.
Late summer’s not my favorite time of year.

Flowers nearly done;
The tulips, irises, and poppies
Long since seeded out;
They’ve had their fun.
Bedraggled day lilies remain,
This is the beginning of the mums.
Bees seek latent nectars
Or tap into their golden stores
To supplement their bumbling runs.

Lawns foist a burnt but stubborn edge
While only thistles still refuse
To bow to August's incessant heat;
Their spikes sprout poisonous defiance.
The dog’s left yellowed pools of dying grass;
I admit the neighbors’ lawns surpass.  
I suppose the time to gather
Drying excrement’s returned, alas....

Keeping up appearances is hard at summer's end.
Ennui of season full and just past ripe  
Leaves tired old men like me
A chiding cause to gripe.
Morning thoughts August 17, 2018
Philipp K J Feb 5
What's that rare precious gift
To present the grace of human race?
The branch of man
the land of seeds
that sprout and spread
And bear fruits
Of love that precedes
the mellow flesh and seeds
The fellow who makes the feeds
The love that filled the hills
the thrill of silent scenes
The killer will to still the love
And will to live within the love.

What's that rare precious gift
To present the face of human race?

An open heart
A winding embrace
Sweet overflowing lift
And a scintillating kiss!
will it surpass the praise?
Or suffice to surprise
Her a rare precious gift!
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