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onlylovepoetry Jul 2017
if only I knew how to love...

for my Victoria

winces-grimaces, that these words even leave my fingertips,
reminiscences, a chrome bookmark tab full of decades of near misses,
instances, subway sideway stolen daily glances of she who would be the only, the one, but one day failed to appear, left to dream peer,
decades long of romanced lasses, flying spectacular super crashes, when my heart-blanched, lanced, and the lawyers danced, poems shriveled as dried ink crack'd and words rusted shut,
cut by so many p'raps, and **** motives, beautiful covered up, disguised as synapses of sin and insincerity, and I,
the sad man,
both the sinner and the sinned against,
totalities, of shoulda-woulda-asked/kissed-her-gallantly,
activities, when kisses were doorways to trap door rooms
and an over decorated monte cristo prison cell

ah well

the 'and yet,' the 'but for,' a single finger, sealing silenced lips,
passions mourned and irrevocable sensations, frittered, fractured,
all that I calmly called love was sprigs and broken branches,
cut flowers destined to shrivel,
not of what I believed in, something akin to a tree rooted, an oaken strong unbreakable love

of this certain, all approximations, all failed incantations,
for surely, if but only one escaped, could have been saved,

and if truthful love it was,
I would have known it,
for would I have dared to let slip away?
matt d mattson Aug 2013
When I saw her
The first woman with the first wide eyes
Bright and light and dark and deep
With life and mystery
My heart beat like the first hand struck the first drum
And the first song was sung
In dark caves of ten times ten thousand years ago

When I first breathed that first scent
My sight stopped
My mind stopped
My mind was my body and my hands and my gut
And my legs extending to the ground and the earth and time
And it slowed down like an ice age beginning
Then it melted into warm fire
Where it burned

The first touch of the first woman
Was electrical chemical radioactive bliss
Every piece of matter in me wanted to move and dance and shake and fly apart
The spark from the start of her heart beat
Crossed through the fibers and
Traveled down the pathways of her body
Down the chemical electric synapses
Through her arm and jumped across to my hand
And traveled up and started a new beat
It was a faster, and stronger beat
And it beat
And it beat
Like the first dance,
Shook with the slap and smack of ground and hands and feet

Oh the first woman was all women
And then there were other women
And they were people
Flesh and blood
And minds and thoughts
And feelings that I could not feel
Good and bad and indifferent
With hangups and problems
Blemishes and baggage
I met women coming
Women going
Here and there
Now and then
For coffee, for beer,
One evening or ten
I met scientists, nurses
bartenders and baristas.
Living lives I didn't mind
Giving time when it was mine
Asking for things I couldn't find

Then I saw You
All of you
In time and space and speed

I caught the scent of you
Your fragrance and perfume
And the primal musk of you
That fatal lusts allure

I felt you
The gravity of your body from across the room
Your electro-magnetic force pulling
Pressure of the displaced particles pushing
As you walked so slowly towards me

And time stopped
Light and sound and movement were captured
Captive to your hypnotic sway
Prisoner to your power over my perception
You moved through the still air
And it swept aside like a curtain as you passed
The world was quiet

And then it pounded  
The pressure of it filled the air and everything around it
As you moved closer,
Like ride of the Valkyries
Rising and crashing in waves
It rose as you moved towards me
You carried it in your wake
And then it was a crescendo
A vast overpowering transcendent orchestral cacophony
Of immense intense sound and light and energy erupting
Cymbals crashed and horns blew and strings snapped under the pressure of the vibrations
Brilliant fireworks exploded in the black sky of your brown eyes
As you stopped a few feet from me

And time was stopped
You were the first woman
You were all women
You are
The only woman
   We see in this moment,

   Spoken our ductaped fixes,

The trajectory of the bricks is straight for my heart.

Break apart the arts I've invented in my mind,

Of which you're the inspiration.

Perspiration running down my face,
   As I realize my place in the world.

No space for a broken mind and shrunken heart.

Pull apart the synapses that hold me together,

It's as if,
   Things almost got better...

We all coast to the end of our tracks,
   Via the cracks in our walls.

Who falls through?
   We never know.

It just goes to show,

The most we've ever known,
  is never sleep alone.

~Robert van Lingen
Let's be real...
Can a Libra love?
Oh ****, here she comes
Her essence is next to
the sweetest dove
I've found her innocent
Disposition's only a trick
Little games she creates
Then gets too bored to ****** finish

She said, "well what's the point of even fishing,
When I had caught the only fish who ever made me seem smitten.. The only time I spit
I LOVE YOU and actually meant it
To this day, I still wait
For it to say
A certain sentence
One so significant, so genuine

Deep down, I know it won't
So it mother ******' goes
I won't forget the time you told
Me that I didn't love you only loved the mold/ I sculpted
In my broken skull cap
As if you were just a ghost that
I didn't understand each tiny lil piece and couldn't read your atoms, just as easily, as I could breathe

You'll never fully believe this
I mean it's, awfully gd sad
So how bout ******* buddy
Truth is, I can't love  after that...
I Keep imagining the laughs
And All these flashes of magic
I never thought I had
I learned from you and yearned
For the few visits that I did get

Though most are
Mad moments I'll forever cherish

In all fairness I thought you
Should be taught a lesson too
Let you Stare off, sullen
not aware of what you do

He stomped my heart like a bug
Then proceeds to make an art
Of zapping my synapses
& harvesting my counterparts
(But Why though? You try and hide those /mighty ******
high hopes you have)
To build yourself a new start"
Sorry to all about the length I couldn't stop.. please enjoy and there is a part 2 I'll be releasing shortly.
Oxygen riddling me with combustion all the synapses cannonfire love and revolt because the sun is going to persist on my skin
and the Godless wind.
We rhyme because our hearts keep Time and that is where gravity gets a bead and latches on since
I can't switch planets so let's swim the depths of Sin they
are thick with platelets, the demons growing from proteins.
Let 'em
Let's live like our molecules aren't giving in in slices of day and the frost residue of minutes on my eyes.
My machinery forged in calcium and porous and in mi-
nor key is whistling a Hymn
I had to memorize in Sunday school.
Days keep happening, my soul is diluting and watching is the Rule.
We are fantastic Fools.
Haphazard soliloquy,
Uninspired philosophy.

Hello Poetry.

Streams of senseless dreams,
And many more to follow.

Swallow'd by a sense of disparagement,
Characterized by the cries in my head.
Survival of the fittest synapses.
That hold myselfs together.

I hold nary a candleless flame,
With a mind to set my minds ablaze,
with my haphazard soliloquy,
my uninspired philosophy.
Nicole Rountree Aug 2018
Words flow but are not a river or a stream.
Passion exuded but it’s not in a dream.
Poetry causes tensions to cease and desist.
Words so calming and smooth the ears cant resist.

I am a poet—even if it’s in my own right.
Brain won’t stop sparking synapses.
Time won’t stop the prolapses of an ego that won’t stop getting excited because of the reactions—from me—a poet— a limerick mind assassin!
LVQuigley Mar 20
The phyrigian lion couldn’t save me now
Nor the man on the moon with all his stars
Or the imps that play havoc at night
Please hold my hand, hold it tight through this madness and chaos.
Because the hatter laughs in my dreams and the mermaids aren’t as they seam
With snarling fangs as sharp as the Wolves that pounce through my synapses the phyrigian lion couldn’t save me now
Nor all the stars pierced to the inside of my eyelids
Pills are force fed through my ear canals,
clogging my synapses with hyperactivity,
the familiar feeling of
make it stop make it stop make it stop
   make it stop

I can’t seem to keep it from invading
all of these failed assassination attempts

smothering by bursting my ear drums
strangulation by dulling my senses
suffocation by plugging up the pain

with every salvation comes another symptom
lodged in the overactive imagination of my nervous system,
so that my brain becomes an incomprehensible forest fire
of forced shutdowns and disassociated panic.

I was warned of the side effects,
but I couldn’t stop from taking too much sound
and now I’m stuck bleeding through my ears
waiting to become another statistic.
Sam Hammond Sep 2018
Well, that's it, my brain is now rotten.
Lost in its fungus are feelings, forgotten.
A spur may occur, on a scarce blue moon,
Of energy telling me I'm back in tune,
But really it's vacant and harsh little lies.
Synapses shooting a brain as it dies.
Misery fruiting on mould colonised
From grey matter, shattered behind fading eyes.
Now just a hollow man, left with no bang,
Merely a whimper with such little whim.
Watching as slowly the old me is lost
While filling the blanks with a bad pseudonym
And sealing them over with mushrooms and liquor,
Though quicker and quicker the struggle gets bigger.
Sick and then sicker, from fluid to rigour.
Stuck in the mould, now forever disfigured.
Arianna Mar 1
Affair of the mind,
Soul chemically modified
Beyond repair.

The best kind of broken:

                    Broken free

From stagnant synapses reeking with regret
And resentment for what could have been.

These days, it feels we are children again —
Let us tread new paths,
Transforming heart through mind through heart;

Sleeping, dreaming butterflies
In the tiny universe of our shared embrace,
Arms becoming wings

          As the world turns,
          As the stage changes scene,
          As the Moon unveils a new face
          And smiles knowingly.

May our colors run free:
Turquoise, violet, and bordeaux.

My blood is tinged with seawater,
And I carry you
In all the shades of Blue
That grace the Universe,
The color of Infinity,
The color of my Love for you, Sweetest One,
Flying free now from my arms.

          You are not mine.

You are your own,
You are...
I don't know what happened, but... Finally, we have come to the sequel:
kaycog May 12
you can train the trees he says
as a pair of garden shears take hold
and snip the lengthened limbs that stretch toward the house
guided not in
but up and out
the branches will follow
and I stand eyes fixed up from below
arms raised high above my head to steady the ladder
his feet find balance in
and I wonder
what would have happened if those synapses hadn’t been pruned?
would the evergreens still grow or reach new heights
had they not been subject to their sapling surroundings and watchful eye of the gardener?
what would I become if left up to nature's desire
unaffected by the calculated, planned attendance of the caretaker
would that fate still take root?
Andrew Jan 2018
I love someone I do not know
Yet the love continues to show
He conquers the walls of my brain
And invades my thoughts
What is this blitzkrieg rain
My mind has caught?
My first impression
Was a deep depression
As I began to notice
There was no solace
After he shot his rocket launcher
At my heart's monster
There's no way to console me
When his forces control me

My mind is under assault
He's laying siege to my vault
Synapses in my brain firing like a gun
All just to convince me he's the one
My mind is senselessly skewed
By the possibility
I hope to be of the select few
That tests his virility

My fortified castle is falling
Before my one true calling
When his inscription
On my prescription
Is a prophecy
That's mocking me
The uncertainty
Starts hurting me
So I surrender my throne
To be his queen
At least I'm not alone
And we're a team
The logic of life…
  illogically pure

In search of itself,
  last problem to cure

Synapses relapse,
  science reclaims

The form with the formula,
  washed down the drain

Structural weakness,
  obsolescence defined

The clocks after midnight,
  forever to chime

With finality’s ink,
  used falsely to stamp

The rug underneath us,
  pulled out in a rant

Our nature found larcenous,
  truth we must steal

To claim for ourselves,
  what our lies deem as real

While eternity listens
  to this comedy play out

The light calling us inward
  —past reason and doubt

(Strafford Pennsylvania: June, 2019)
giofuellos Jan 9
When ideas fall like leaves
Crumbling like broken transcripts
Slowly drifting away in the wind
Uninspired and daunted
By the momentous synapses of time
I gaze down to the vast gaping chasm with laborious stoicism
Waiting, persevering, thinking
Crushing the pikemen of nihilism
With a thousand determined dragoons
Pining for the imperial plunder of thoughts
And the surrender of the imagination to the pen
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