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MARGA Jun 2018
your precious smile,
that never failed to shine;
a heaven-sent beam,
that made my heart your realm.

2. your tenderness,
that gave me bliss;
how could someone be
like you, so dearly?

3. your good vibes,
that surpassed all tribes
in giving off the positivity
i need for my stubborn reality.

4. your talents,
that awakened everyone's hearts;
you are my significant inspiration,
you give life to my life's ambition.

5. your humility,
that's filled with sincerity.
while everyone else is toplofty,
you remained lowly.
not everyone as wonderful as you,
could show meekness too.

6. the happiness you shared,
at times when smiling is something
i never dared;
darling, it meant everything.

7. for your meaningful silence,
that gave me a better comprehension.
although your stillness was tense,
i knew in my heart it was never a rejection.

8. for your music,
that never halts to flourish.
music, your depiction of aesthetic;
through you, the melody will never tarnish.

9. for being your genuine self,
you gave me potency to do the same.
shamming is no longer something i'll play, for you taught me how to
end that witless game.

10. for bringing me daily sunshine,
for setting the moon & the stars aligned;
my everyday became better,
and i will treasure you forever.

there are way more reasons
on why i love you for real.
through the passing seasons
i could slowly & slowly reveal
and show you how i truly feel.
as time passes us by,
i would no longer hesitate
and keep my sentiments ensconced.
through the coming weeks, months and years,
as long as we have all the time
i would dauntlessly lay out to you
that the way i feel for you is true.
written with whole heart for my dearest .
let me tell you
that i am true
ㅡ and i always will be.
False Poets May 8
when you understand my poems perfectly then,

their utility is inutile,
their usefulness is, will. always be, in the


reinterpretation, a million and still counting,
as long as you must guess at its labyrinth inner wired construct,
be pleasured by the roiled and rolled curves upon your tongue,
two lives (yours, mine), a paired wine tasting, we together,
believing in the greatness of joyous frustration

some say, as I do, the world is better for the
utility of thine own struggled understanding,
the truest combination of two way communication,
surpassed only by our at last armed embrace,

when at last we understand our mutuality of need and salve...
My art
is the way
I re-establish
the bonds that unite me
to the universe. -A.M.

Before she fell
They were
She, for her sudden rise
And he
in turn
for his shaggy, loping omnipotence
The sure-footed authority

She was the little Visionary
and he, the Blue Chip
So very messy
The Tall and The Small

If you were sitting at the bar
Somewhere around Mercer Street
And those two came in
Went off inside all the heads
in their line of sight
A palpable mental groan
As they hung up their coats
And waved at various tables
Making their way like penguins

Again, it will all end badly, we thought
Nursing our drinks.

Piling out of the last bar
brawling on slick cobblestones
under the yellowish streetlights
of Prince or West Broadway
Arguing about nothing and everything
“I will out run you Old Man!”
You could hear it bouncing off the sidewalk
Whispering around corners
“You will be surpassed!”
I too look to eternity,
he states full of drink and exasperation
I step and step again. I am walking there.
I am not a bird.
“You will be surpassed!”

Blood and more blood
A face planted with busted lips
Your body crushed into the earth
Over and over
Having fallen
Waiting for burial, entombed in flora
To be disappeared
But not just yet.

What had you unleashed Mija?
What did you already know?

I’ve got a devil inside of me! SHE GOT LOVE!
I’ve got a devil inside of me! SHE GOT LOVE!

In editorial spreads
we saw flared American jeans in Rome
You said that they understood you there
And in Cuba
We understood you very well right here,
you know.
It’s not so hard.

The doorman said he heard someone cry out
And then a soft thud a moment later
From the deli’s rooftop next door

“ICARUS DOWN” read The Post

How easily we lost our envy
after those 34 floors
Strait shot

It was all foretold in the telling
Now folded into a history of sorts
That of a primordial Fertility
And not a thousand chalklines drawn around a singular corpse
Nor unforeseen ramifications of deals
made in feathers
puddles and mud
The reunion of force fields
Folding you back within my arms
Where you belong
What an excellent day for an exorcism.

I’ve got a devil inside of me! SHE GOT LOVE!
Zersrol Oct 2018
Starting slow
Speeding up
Felt unreachable
Just my luck
The car continues off
As I follow with lust

I keep following
Taking detours
Out of trust
Soon enough I hit a hole
But wouldn’t  stop
Due to my stupidity

How naive I was
For believing I could catch up
Instead I should of went faster
Not to the car’s limit
But to surpass her with my pride

She was not all
All to me
Is me
Not her
And her silly games
Of cat and mouse

I have finally surpassed
Forgetting my Obession
Finally at peace
Not begging for her attention

My Obession is done
Now I may continue on
With my pride in mind
Never to fall for someone again
But that would be a lie
Lust will soon rise again
Even if I don’t want it to...
This part two to the Obession with the car, I have finally got over my Obession, now I may feel at peace with my depression no longer haunted by her presence. Sorry for not posting for a while, school has been quite a trouble. For all of you I will post a poem on oct 24 after my performance at my play. I will  narrate and perform my poem for all can appreciate and hear on this date. ❤️
Robert Gretczko Oct 2016
her name rung out with a chime
her heart beat in pantomime
her body reeked with surprise
her soul rested deep in her eyes
her hair flowed with silky shine
her squared smile had become mine
her lust was only surpassed by passion
her hips and gait always in fashion
her mind bold and on always fire
her lust for thought my prime desire
her touch a golden tip of grace
her beauty rested quietly in her face
her loyalty thundered at every turn
her devotion never ceased to burn
her way of placing anything at all
her assuredness all did enthral
We did it younger than ever,
We discovered how to escape;
That sincere claim
of every next generation,
The undying theme never ageing.
Such is the way.

Just run! The adult-world's awaiting
and I won't yet be taken,
Lost in a maze of adolescence,
There I fear my gaze will ever-remain.

Skins touch the soul, in the depths of it
I know; Love Here.

Have we finally surpassed
that teenage haze
in which I was encased?
In which I was amazed.

I can never give up those memories,
Hence, I dutifully make these recordings.
This data keeps me dauntless, reinforcing my character.
I feel at ease to know it will remain here.
What is inexplicable now
perhaps I can decipher in the future.
That shivering empyrean was committed
to the darkest recesses of my mind,
And there it shall remain for the rest of time.
False Poets Apr 3
words conveyed with a mutual clarity parity for communication
will end only when the world ends first
and the communitas is no more,and words, exist purposelessly  
for there is no left with whom to communicate, precisely

but now, of this moment,
write words, sentences multiplied but circumscribed,
verses with mystical aura,
whose utility so suspect and multiple meanings hidden within,
taken by you for the specific utility you uncover and create

ah, to write of things clearly visible to all,
but possessed differently, by each reader, this is the greatest commonsensical commonwealth useful
for and of humans indexed by unique word tendons tenderly

when this passes, when literature no longer
can be messengered to 127 Persian provinces,
each the message same,
yet given up in 127 different languages^

when you understand my poems perfectly then,
their utility is inutile,
the usefulness is in the
nth reinterpretation,
a million and still counting,
as long as you must guess at its labyrinth wired inner construct,
being pleasured by the roiled and rolled curves upon your tongue,
a lives paired wine tasting, together believing
in the greatness of joyous frustration

some say, I do, the world is better for the
utility of thine own struggled understanding,
the truest combination of two way communication,
surpassed only by our armed embrace at last

p.s. Pradip, be careful what you wish for....a poet false...

9:15am  April 3, 2019
^ Book of Esther 1:22 For he (the King) sent letters into all the king's 127 provinces, into every province according to the writing thereof, and to every people after their language, that every man should bear rule in his own house, and that it should be published according to the language of every people.
Not Lauren Oct 2018
Love is varying but you were not what I expected when the word first tarnished my vocabulary. The word is sinful and leaves such a foul taste in my mouth; no one will ever get as sick of the word as I did.

No one's ever surpassed the absurd expectations of this vile word & I don't want to stick around to find out if I’ll fall into its clutches too.
My love is ruined.
Audra Apr 2
This is my thanks to the ones
Who listen
And actually care
About the broken ones like me.
For your simple smiles
And short conversations
Have preserved more lives
Than you could ever imagine.

Though you may not have heard
An audible cry for help,
You have surpassed the ones that did.

My life,
Now indebted to each of you,
Will continue to go on
Because you gave me something better.

This is my call to the world:
Listen to those around you,
For we will cry out in need
With scars
Or bruises
(Both physical and mental).

Listen for the silent cry,
And seek out the ones who need you.

These are my words to the world;
Words that someone needs for life.
dear people, please listen. you have helped me thus far, but there is still more.
Astrid Jul 20
A willow tree hides
at the edge of the orchard,
Streams of withered leaves
veiling its stooping trunk.

Struggling to survive,
Its roots are sparse and fractured,
And its brittle branches snap -
At the lightest gust.

All will for life,
Seemingly ******
Into the soil.

But within the crumbling walls of bark,
Its rings of wisdom lie.
Tales of brutal storms surpassed,
Etched between the lines.

They are not scars,
but stories.
Of ancient solitude, distress,
Yet the labyrinth of spirals
guides the way to peacefulness.

As the days grow shorter and
the dew begins to run,
The branches are stripped
of their facade.

No leaf will ever live to see
All corners of the sun,
But the dusty inner halos
will still glow beneath the bark,


Eternal beauty;
always found
at the heart
of a willow tree.
Eloisa Feb 17
You tried to look in the mirror and you gazed at your own eyes
Not just a face you saw but a reflection of the past
You got lost many times, not only once, not just twice
Triumphs laced with mistakes, crowning failures that got surpassed

You stared at the reflection in front of you and saw a space
In it was a mix collection of your joys and your fears
You gazed once more at the woman’s more serene face
Another room was lit with a lot of held back tears

How many years have you forgotten and known yourself
Oh! Fret not for as long as it has taken back to you
For you  have begun to retrace each and every step
So that you could finally mutter to the woman in the mirror
“I love you!”

Congratulations! You now know your beautiful truth
That self-love truly throbs and runs deep in accepting who’s you
That giant tides will be tamed and all storms will be gone
If your soul is your truth, and your heart is your light
Dalcanne Louise Dec 2018
They surpassed on everything
and here he is and asking
his own capability
that is surely a liability.

Who is the jack of all trades
that did everything to aid?
He is a man who is a master of none
that thought the existence is gone.

He who climbs the summit
to reach expectation
but failed to prevail
then latter a disappointment.

Proud and loud
he waves the flag
for it is not the end
but another start.
Cole Maxwell Mar 31
In the rubble and ash of this crumbling path I took,
It looked like the crash was a jumbled mess of a book,
With torn pages and half of the good ones had the same look.
The truth in the writing surpassed walls,
And I became shook.
Had I known then what I came to understand later in life,
Would've changed the face of my fate and I could've avoided strife.
The pain strengthens, the days lengthen, The narrow pavement remains stable, though latent,
And now I'm getting run off course like the truck that crashed in the woods from the same ****.
Of course, I put the inhalants aside like childish things,
A little too late but hey, it's the thought that counts, ain't it?
Sit back and watch this painting unveil as I frame it.
I call it ‘Shame’ and I hope you like it cause I made it.
Jeremy Lauzon May 24
If nothing matters
Then you will never see
The festering emotions marked within the trees

If you want it
I guess you will never see it
A Solitary child beneath the moonlight
A deadly mirror on road to a scenic flight

Don't we all know that feeling?
Vision locked to the flight
Nothing seems right

Don't we all face our demons?
Unexplained trespasser's might
A far too familiar mental fight

If we could only find out why
What does it hurt to try?

If something matters
Why can't it be everything?
You'd rather focus on your faithful wings

If you don't want it
I think you'll be better without it
A roaring angel faced with days to keep
A simple life where we can follow our dreams

Don't we all need that feeling?
The tides of death are now lost
And all the distress is gone

Don't we all need our amen?
A breath of fresh air at last
Shadows of misery you surpassed

Reveries of ghosts you had in mind
It feels so right
Knowing that you could die
What does it hurt to try?

Masters of the mind that give us light
It feels so right
A life looking bright
What does it hurt to try?
I enjoy writing my poems with the intent to be lyrical, and this is certainly a good example of that side of me.
KateKarl Feb 1
I like the words they use to tell what a poem is
better than any poetry I've read.
Like: fragments, ghost, allusion.

I like the way my ribs move
when someone talks about storytellers;
It's a pride I taste more than during a story told.

A review says 'intricate' and 'masterful'
So I put the thing on a pedestal of stolen adjectives.
My crown jewel is 'aesthetic' and I own it, lying.

What is a creator without his critic?
Condemnation and commendation
mean more to me than original construction.

But then--poets are just the translation of Creation.
And never has a word of soaring perfection
surpassed the garden, fallen.
croob Dec 2018
if you want to be a writer
you must first become a whiner.
you must cut yourself on words
time and time again,
destroying yourself slowly
surely, with your planning pen.

someday that pen will rise
when it has surpassed you
to betray you; it's deceived you.
when this day comes,
no one will dare to grieve you
and when they read your poem about
how your pen killed you, they surely
won't believe you -
but they will, still,
remember the embers
of your seemingly
endless suffering.
'Twas in the eventide of June
Whilst he didst lay in a pit of despair
When a lass fair as a silvery moon
Stately sailed his way as a zephyr
Yet majestically as drops of dew
Rollin' upon boughs of emerald fair.

Heaven's ever fair golden eye
Had sprinkled her very last ray
To pave way unto night maidens
That evermore bedight heaven's bay
With luster that in perpetuum gladdens
Naked eyes in a way i canst not say.

Radiant hope in his eyes shone bright
To potter beside a beauty queen
Whose eyes thrice brighter than light
Fair like as sails of diamond hewn,
Opalescent as robes of Sirius in the night
Whilst decamping at the fall of dawn.

Euphonious lullabies into her ear
Mellifluously he didst sing and sing,
For her to know she's all he did revere.
A fair diadem unto her he did bring,
For her to forevermore hold it dear
Queen unto him she's, and him her King.

But yonder stars in lone splendor
Coveted him and the beauty queen,
For her effulgence surpassed their luster
That as passes a fiend with eyes unseen
When the wind is hushed into slumber,
So did spy upon 'em with eyes keen.

Alas! As we all know naught lasts forever,
The looming veils of night began to vade
Whilst stars in a splendiferous cluster
Upon celestial shores coyly didst wend;
And his visage grew pale by dawns luster,
For far off with his queen they'd eloped.

©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Los Angels, California, USA.
#Tales Of Nineva #Swain #Maiden #Fairy whispers #Imaginations
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