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"synchronicity" poems
do you recall the crunch beneath our feet a gesture small as we ambled down the street dirt and gravel I felt pebbles through my shoe I unravelled When I looked at you Where did you come from Are you real? Is this how I’m supposed to feel? A dreamgirl In a dreary place I’ve counted every freckle on your face Sunlight peaked through maple branches in such a tranquil way missed chances to make advances I always hoped you'd stay a fork in the road ahead we went different directions I used many different methods to try and snag your attention Where did you come from Are you real? Is this how I’m supposed to feel? A dreamgirl In a dreary place I’ve counted every freckle on your face you never seemed to notice you just stared ahead heart bloomed as if a lotus while I tugged at a loose thread sometimes I'd begin to speak but choked upon my words so I walked next to you without a peep and together watched the birds Where did you come from Are you real? Is this how I’m supposed to feel? A dreamgirl In a dreary place I’ve counted every freckle on your face it's odd and super subtle the synchronicity insignificant and pointless yet means the world to me quiet walks every afternoon past the garage and dead leaves we watched the starlings courtship do you remember me? Where did you come from Are you real? Is this how I’m supposed to feel? A dreamgirl In a dreary place I’ve counted every freckle on your face
0
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 2:29 AM UTC
on golden pond
The fateful universe has chosen With a six billion year explosion With a bond that is this unbreakable Synchronicity is quite unmistakable We are Brothers, not by choice, luck, or the same seed Different mothers, But souls undeniably the same breed If there comes a time for war we"ll be joined together in the trenches No matter what the game score We"ll play, while they ride the benches When it comes to the sacred brotherhood Please, let this one thing be understood No matter where you are, or whether you"re blessed with children or a wife Your brother"s never too far, and just know you"re my dog beyond this life
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Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 12:49 AM UTC
Brotherhood
walking through the woods i was surrounded by a plethora of golden bronze amber leaves tumbling in the wind sparkling with a star fire that evanesced from their jagged edges upon their descent.  i stood entranced, mesmerized, utterly hypnotized by their glorious magnificence.  i observed with intensity as a golden bronze amber leaf never having been attached to the majestic tree had no need to let go but gently released.  feeling no trepidation it wholly lacked desire for manipulation to control the forces of the wind.  i watched in awe and wonder realizing that it never disengaged from the tree knowing that separation is an illusion; it simply became the wind.  whirling it shimmered in the autumn sun as it wafted with no need for reins allowing its destination to unfold.  gingerly cascading it settled tenderly on the ground resting comfortably in ambivalence.  i sensed it did not cringe when it was picked up by an unsuspecting boot but intuitively knew immediately that it was being carried and dropped off serendipitously at an auspicious location.  i listened to it intently and drank in its essence as it simply lay in being not obsessing over what would happen consequent but sat in sheer stillness seemingly encompassing all totality.  i was stunned to see that it lingered without judgment in undivided clarity for what wild synchronicity would come.  it quenched its thirst in mystery while being completely at home in uncertainty.  the golden bronze amber leaf seemed one with all that is while simultaneously retaining awareness of self-perception.  as a gentle gust of wind coalesced with the beige fall sky it literally merged with the momentum enjoying the ride to its perfect destination.  with delicacy it rested cozily in ambiguity whispering to me that heaven is a state and not a place.  i vow surrender to black and white existence pledging fearlessly to climb higher creating life with vivid vibrancy adding golden bronze amber to my palette of colors with which i’ll paint. ©2016 janetaylor
0
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 5:37 PM UTC
golden bronze amber
walking through the woods i was surrounded by a plethora of golden bronze amber leaves tumbling in the wind sparkling with a star fire that evanesced from their jagged edges upon their descent.  i stood entranced, mesmerized, utterly hypnotized by their glorious magnificence.  i observed with intensity as a golden bronze amber leaf never having been attached to the majestic tree had no need to let go but gently released.  feeling no trepidation it wholly lacked desire for manipulation to control the forces of the wind.  i watched in awe and wonder realizing that it never disengaged from the tree knowing that separation is an illusion; it simply became the wind.  whirling it shimmered in the autumn sun as it wafted with no need for reins allowing its destination to unfold.  gingerly cascading it settled tenderly on the ground resting comfortably in ambivalence.  i sensed it did not cringe when it was picked up by an unsuspecting boot but intuitively knew immediately that it was being carried and dropped off serendipitously at an auspicious location.  i listened to it intently and drank in its essence as it simply lay in being not obsessing over what would happen consequent but sat in sheer stillness seemingly encompassing all totality.  i was stunned to see that it lingered without judgment in undivided clarity for what wild synchronicity would come.  it quenched its thirst in mystery while being completely at home in uncertainty.  the golden bronze amber leaf seemed one with all that is while simultaneously retaining awareness of self-perception.  as a gentle gust of wind coalesced with the beige fall sky it literally merged with the momentum enjoying the ride to its perfect destination.  with delicacy it rested cozily in ambiguity whispering to me that heaven is a state and not a place.  i vow surrender to black and white existence pledging fearlessly to climb higher creating life with vivid vibrancy adding golden bronze amber to my palette of colors with which i’ll paint. ©2016 janetaylor
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2
— - — Call it magic if you may the sun, the moon’s pray Constantly chasing each other day after night, night after day Such a perfect contradiction they make Putting together the right ingredients to complement each coloured ray When one were to fall the other would silently rise, filling its place With every small step they take, synchronicity follows without ever missing a beat So on they move Completely balanced, without anybody taking the lead In the beauty they unfold upon us this has to be one of the most wondrous spectacles if you ask me Words are unable to measure by any means their lightning show how they glow with a radiance that highlights their power and control Or how they never let each other down Or stand in each other’s sway No envy I feel nor does appreciate is able to say The truths about their nature, always ready to unveil hidden in every passage lay the constant sacrifices they have made The forces that pulls each other so close the same it pushes away, too If one steps out of place, all falls out of space and will be let loose With lightyears of travelling they unified their bond but are still bound to live in separation I admire you, from a far An admiration so magnificent it cannot be free One of the most magical things enabling us to see Right on time as ever so soon The dance between the sun and the moon. — - —
0
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 5:06 AM UTC
Spectator
Wings a flitter Iridescent feathers a glitter Hovering briefly at a flower top Usually not long enough to truly stop This precious one of avian design I  see delicately perched upon a twisted vine The sun glinting off the ruby throat Making it easy for on this one to dote Although this perch may be brief It does bear out my belief That the light of her essence Has me blessed in her presence Medicine, absent of strife Filled with the nectar of life Life that bears the scars of complexity Yet revels in the miracle of synchronicity Placed on my path with divine intention I would be remiss to discount this intervention And yet fail to mention... A renewal of mon couer and the magic of living For this is the medicine that hummingbird is giving And for me it is so easy to see She is Nenookaasi
0
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 10:00 PM UTC
Hummingbird
Feelers in tune with the universe Synchronicity is what I crave But when no one knows your frequency You must wait for them to catch the wave
0
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 12:45 AM UTC
Electromagnetic
I want perfection I want that moment where our eyes meet and neither of us can break the gaze where our souls open to one another like buds thirsting for the rain where I see eternity, endless infinity expand and share their secrets from within you and know in that instant that you see the same in me I want that perfection of recognition I want perfection I want a shared empathy an effortless telepathic connection to feel that golden thread that links all my chakras with all yours I want to wake thinking of you to drift into sleep doing the same to know this is true for you too and to meet even in our dreams I want that perfection of synchronicity I want perfection I want to explore your body to marvel at its complete perfection even though you believe it imperfect I want you to marvel too at the perfection you see in this body although I know it to be far short I want to be consumed in mutual lust to burn with your tastes sounds and smells subsuming our senses into one another I want that perfection of sensation I want perfection I want to run and work and sweat with you to experience the joys of music, of performance to travel with you to places of wonder to inspire your creativity to be inspired by you in every way to reach new heights as yet undreamed to remain forever grateful for the gifts of your love I want that perfection of complementarity Cynthia Pauline Jones 4th May 2015
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May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 2:21 PM UTC
Seeking Perfection
She was my lover all night sensual perfection we held each other tight We eloped into our anechoic room Escaping the world I was her groom I kissed her slender feet and hands The only thing wrong she was married to another man Honeymoon in Singapore It was unplanned but meant to be I wonder if she still remembers me? Housewife and mother of two Sinful synchronicity rendezvous On vacation when we met Our lust was hot and so very wet We kissed and bared our souls Hard and soft in loves loft we rolled... Honeymoon in Singapore His wife was my bride tonight we both cried in the morning light We were one in flesh she took off her wedding dress in wanton caress The only thing wrong she was married to another man! Honeymoon in Singapore It was unplanned but meant to be I wonder if she still remembers me? True story of a *** lustful night with a pretty married ultra exotic Chinese-Filipina girl in Singapore Oct. 2009 Singapore is the microcosm of urban perfection
0
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC
Honeymoon in Singapore
she’s the girl who sets a room on fire with laughs or real flame, and she stands in that same flame; ranting about herself with blissful intention: aries. she’s the girl who mows the lawn all day to throw a memorable party on perfectly pitched grass; but then spends the entire party with that one guy on that one roof, just the two of them: taurus. she’s the girl who ***** you fiercest only to then display sudden and crippling bouts of madness; she’s one of a kind, or two of a kind, and she means some kind of love: gemini. she’s the girl who you fall for so easily, and she falls for you so easily, and everything is a dream; but a dream transforms, seasons transform, and the peopled cities with them: cancer. she’s the girl who steals the show every time, and she leans on you when she’s tired and lonely; she reads science fiction books and tells you all the endings, strange planets fixtured in her dreams: leo. she’s the girl who thinks too much, drinks too much, and weighs you for all your words; but words are her demise as she digs her arms deeper into the dirt to catch that feeling: virgo. she’s the girl who piles a shrine of shiny occult objects and spools through men like shiny other objects; she has a beautiful heart, holy or not, but without a doubt, entirely stylish: libra. she’s the girl who doesn't believe a ******* thing you say but kisses you harder when you say it; she takes you up the hill to her folks and they sacrifice you for blood mana: scorpio. she’s the girl who knows you best and knows even better she’s far beyond the depths of your league; she has deafening dreams, with or without you in them; for ruins she will climb or create: sagittarius. she’s the girl who buys the popcorn and eats the popcorn and sulks on the couch while tonguing kernels out of her teeth; she will never truly love you, just the idea of you: capricorn. she’s the girl who saves your life with a tracheotomy when you nearly die on that plum street seed; she will leave you for a another man, a man with a good rifle and a warm little tent: aquarius. she’s the girl who sees synchronicity in all things, all life, all dreams and emanations; she will love you until the smell of mexico drags her away upon a neverending weekend: pisces.
0
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 6:38 AM UTC
zodiac
she’s the girl who sets a room on fire with laughs or real flame, and she stands in that same flame; ranting about herself with blissful intention: aries. she’s the girl who mows the lawn all day to throw a memorable party on perfectly pitched grass; but then spends the entire party with that one guy on that one roof, just the two of them: taurus. she’s the girl who ***** you fiercest only to then display sudden and crippling bouts of madness; she’s one of a kind, or two of a kind, and she means some kind of love: gemini. she’s the girl who you fall for so easily, and she falls for you so easily, and everything is a dream; but a dream transforms, seasons transform, and the peopled cities with them: cancer. she’s the girl who steals the show every time, and she leans on you when she’s tired and lonely; she reads science fiction books and tells you all the endings, strange planets fixtured in her dreams: leo. she’s the girl who thinks too much, drinks too much, and weighs you for all your words; but words are her demise as she digs her arms deeper into the dirt to catch that feeling: virgo. she’s the girl who piles a shrine of shiny occult objects and spools through men like shiny other objects; she has a beautiful heart, holy or not, but without a doubt, entirely stylish: libra. she’s the girl who doesn't believe a ******* thing you say but kisses you harder when you say it; she takes you up the hill to her folks and they sacrifice you for blood mana: scorpio. she’s the girl who knows you best and knows even better she’s far beyond the depths of your league; she has deafening dreams, with or without you in them; for ruins she will climb or create: sagittarius. she’s the girl who buys the popcorn and eats the popcorn and sulks on the couch while tonguing kernels out of her teeth; she will never truly love you, just the idea of you: capricorn. she’s the girl who saves your life with a tracheotomy when you nearly die on that plum street seed; she will leave you for a another man, a man with a good rifle and a warm little tent: aquarius. she’s the girl who sees synchronicity in all things, all life, all dreams and emanations; she will love you until the smell of mexico drags her away upon a neverending weekend: pisces.
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48
Sleeping someone somewhere Dreams of drinking daises Laying lucid loving lavender Adapting admiration of the ages Koala kites, kaleidoscope cries Bubbles blowing bare beauty Riding radiance rapidly realizing Forsaken focus freeing form Soaring sensation seeps synchronicity Dripping differences deranged Rearranged ripples randomly react Enacting endorphins equally engaging Induced ignition infinitely intact Pulsating precision purpose full pact
0
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 4:52 AM UTC
Yonder yarn
In pursuit of an elusive harmony      summer nights rolled away from us      reverberating into a numinous bass line      while reconciling our dreams      with a burgeoning truth Flustered with desire      and walking in a non-ordinary reality. Lost within the Source     of all there is and ever was. We re-animated     navigating through portals unexplained      to retrieve this love We plied our differences into commonality      and re-aligned our fractured selves using the agency      of synchronicity - having found      an immutable archetypal truth      and having found from where our self-portraits flow Much more than soul mates, Plato      offers stories of Zeus splitting souls in half      as punishment for pride.      In this incarnation, have we found humility?      Will this be enough to carry us back to nobility?      It is challenging to find your way back      into a lover's arms. Mistakes haunt us eternally (if we allow for that)      but every morning if we awake      and let go, using the suns setting and rising as a reminder that      with experience, guidance, and repetition ... it gets easier My half soul      awoke as my mortality decomposed      when half becomes one, then the real turmoil begins      from the shores of St. Mary, Raven calls      and I follow my destiny into an Obsidian Night
0
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 4:39 AM UTC
Obsidian Nights (a)
Her life was run on the oil of synchronicity planted in the seduction of abstract hypotheses. The moons and ebbs of tides Swoop in like thunderclaps on wing'ed lightning bolts, Capturing synergy Wiping out energy Till she huddles in a pile of her own failure Tucking up her toes to avoid the floods Admiring and condemning The rain soaked Howling at her gate.
0
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 9:58 PM UTC
Oil of Synchronicity
an hour ago   as we lay your coffin           in the red brown earth a mob of kangaroos         bounded  by                 down in the vale at the bottom of the hill. amazing in their strength and synchronicity                the thunderous noise a more than, fitting goodbye the world itself ... resonated with one last joyous round of applause..and then a quiet                    goodbye
0
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
one final bow, before exiting, stage left
I know I've been there, I've given into death and altered the fabric of reality Every day we waste away transfixed by flattened images Of the limitlessness of death Coupled with elusive, Luciferian harm which will befall us all Who subsist on the manipulated reality of the hyperspace information field But one day, enlivened by the festivities of Shakori Hills And the fungal spirits who awoke beside us I walked the irreversible pathway through oblivion Facing cruel destruction and terror For a horrifying passage across Styx into eternity And emerged within a crowd of mollusks dancing to the waves of a musical sea All time suspended in the impossibly drawn-out ****** of the Archetypal wizardry of rhythm, The swirling clumps of faces in Unshakable ecstasy And seemingly responding to the wild currents of my conscious thought; A longing for human touch drew the others closer and closer around me Till they began brushing against me Bumping into me, The flow of the crowd saw its axis at my psychic emanation As once more the last song of all time began with thunderous energy and applause. I escaped the arresting confines of the crowd By willing them aside, wearing, as I suddenly became aware, the shoes of Moses And seeing my muddy feet upon the sands of Egypt But I yet had no understanding Of the nature of the garden of earthly delights Into which I had fallen, And fear began to envelop me, Producing law enforcement officials hawklike swooping in to limit my power. I had but to let go of my acceptance of their power over me to transcend them But fear tethered me to reality, Even as I saw about me a Dharmic mandala Of my past present and future, Generating inexplicable archetypes around me in a manner profoundly defiant Of rational logic. Synchronicity compounded upon me As the Christos within me Brought rain down upon us Forcing us together and leaving me in dumbfounded reverie Of all that had transpired to bring this moment forth What had seemed to be the end of history was in fact The awakening of a new rebirth The first moment of coming to be The union of past, present and future As the reassuring smiles of my trustworthy disciples gently allowed me passage back into a rational existence I beamed in utter gratitude for the eternal life which Christ afforded us. Chaos had subsided back into normalcy But still winked at me In telepathic coincidence. My soul has begun to realize that it resides in all things Soon they are to be reintegrated
0
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 10:16 PM UTC
Shakori Hills
I know I've been there, I've given into death and altered the fabric of reality Every day we waste away transfixed by flattened images Of the limitlessness of death Coupled with elusive, Luciferian harm which will befall us all Who subsist on the manipulated reality of the hyperspace information field But one day, enlivened by the festivities of Shakori Hills And the fungal spirits who awoke beside us I walked the irreversible pathway through oblivion Facing cruel destruction and terror For a horrifying passage across Styx into eternity And emerged within a crowd of mollusks dancing to the waves of a musical sea All time suspended in the impossibly drawn-out ****** of the Archetypal wizardry of rhythm, The swirling clumps of faces in Unshakable ecstasy And seemingly responding to the wild currents of my conscious thought; A longing for human touch drew the others closer and closer around me Till they began brushing against me Bumping into me, The flow of the crowd saw its axis at my psychic emanation As once more the last song of all time began with thunderous energy and applause. I escaped the arresting confines of the crowd By willing them aside, wearing, as I suddenly became aware, the shoes of Moses And seeing my muddy feet upon the sands of Egypt But I yet had no understanding Of the nature of the garden of earthly delights Into which I had fallen, And fear began to envelop me, Producing law enforcement officials hawklike swooping in to limit my power. I had but to let go of my acceptance of their power over me to transcend them But fear tethered me to reality, Even as I saw about me a Dharmic mandala Of my past present and future, Generating inexplicable archetypes around me in a manner profoundly defiant Of rational logic. Synchronicity compounded upon me As the Christos within me Brought rain down upon us Forcing us together and leaving me in dumbfounded reverie Of all that had transpired to bring this moment forth What had seemed to be the end of history was in fact The awakening of a new rebirth The first moment of coming to be The union of past, present and future As the reassuring smiles of my trustworthy disciples gently allowed me passage back into a rational existence I beamed in utter gratitude for the eternal life which Christ afforded us. Chaos had subsided back into normalcy But still winked at me In telepathic coincidence. My soul has begun to realize that it resides in all things Soon they are to be reintegrated
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52
Psychedelic souls Connecting together, making a flow Sharing what we know Creating an awakened show Gather round and watch the smiles glow Talk to people and help them grow Give them something to believe in Help them stop the constant grievin People need a break This world can be hard to take Show them how happiness feels Show them that its deeply real Access the love and higher vibrations Teach them creativity and concentration Be the change you wish to see We have the same purpose, you and me This worlds a trip and we should treat it as much Teach people to heal with a gentle touch Energy flowing through our bodies and all around Manifest with imagination, art, and sound Create what we want to exist in 3D Connecting with higher dimensions is the key You have everything you need inside Don't hurt your brain looking far and wide The collective consciousness is overflowing inspiration For the world it's an invitation To express what you see Keeping your mind open and free Heal yourself and your energy Take some supplements and drink some tea Create a world we don't have to flee Decalcify your third eye and join me Embody the expansiveness you can be They're not coincidences they're synchronicity Everything is connected here and beyond Your own body is the magic wand A conduit of energy and the divine Anyone can understand what I'm saying if they open their mind
0
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 1:03 AM UTC
Virgo Manifestation
<•> BusBusNYC (A Live Love Bus App) •<>• if you made it this far, so fare one, be undressed with thyself and impressed as well, for thou joints me in holy matrimony upon a living map where our presences can meet in virtual real time as if eye new what that meant but that blue dot is where this body possessed can be located by the nearest satellite finger snaking down from the heavens to Cain mark my foreheads location, just like on Game of Thrones don't you desire me, or rather, the knowledge of mine whereabouts? the who of me, that very useful information, can best be seen moving crosstown on the M72, which is a mythological bus for in twenty years eye never seen it come, go, though all its stops clearly marked see me moving in fits and spurts of bursts of movement, leaping streets and avenues in a single unbounded, unstoppable superbus leap in a city of anonymity where all who walk it streets,   ride the tides of its buses, all ask a single Job-like question, regardless of age, "I am desirable, do you want me?" eye say the ayes have it, no, this is not a great poem but! this live bus map app is the dating site ever created by geeky human cells alll this virtual meeting possibly leading to coitus   with a stranger while Pandora serenades with perfect synchronicity, playing and plying us with Romance for a Violin and Orchestra in F Minor, a combination musical **** work of Dvorak-Mehta-Midori this bus app is the social media's most immediate, so meet me on the bus at Broadway and 86 Street where our metro cards can be merged and we will be recognized as a legal couple(ing) in the eyes of MTA, a multi-state agency and be bound in bustrimony (legally married when riding on a city bus, only) jeez, a crazy poem, not just, not a good one but a true tale from the one who rides the buses and only alights and delights with regaling tales and tellings of love sortie sorrow maybe tomorrow the busbusNYC app wil apply itself a smidgen better and let me love you even with a good under the hood bus poem but! someday we will, this, thy poet, who does desire youalone, will hijack you and a NYC bus, and visit the poets from India and the Great Northwest won't that be a fabulous poem!
0
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 6:16 PM UTC
BusBusNYC (A Live Love Bus App)
<•> BusBusNYC (A Live Love Bus App) •<>• if you made it this far, so fare one, be undressed with thyself and impressed as well, for thou joints me in holy matrimony upon a living map where our presences can meet in virtual real time as if eye new what that meant but that blue dot is where this body possessed can be located by the nearest satellite finger snaking down from the heavens to Cain mark my foreheads location, just like on Game of Thrones don't you desire me, or rather, the knowledge of mine whereabouts? the who of me, that very useful information, can best be seen moving crosstown on the M72, which is a mythological bus for in twenty years eye never seen it come, go, though all its stops clearly marked see me moving in fits and spurts of bursts of movement, leaping streets and avenues in a single unbounded, unstoppable superbus leap in a city of anonymity where all who walk it streets,   ride the tides of its buses, all ask a single Job-like question, regardless of age, "I am desirable, do you want me?" eye say the ayes have it, no, this is not a great poem but! this live bus map app is the dating site ever created by geeky human cells alll this virtual meeting possibly leading to coitus   with a stranger while Pandora serenades with perfect synchronicity, playing and plying us with Romance for a Violin and Orchestra in F Minor, a combination musical **** work of Dvorak-Mehta-Midori this bus app is the social media's most immediate, so meet me on the bus at Broadway and 86 Street where our metro cards can be merged and we will be recognized as a legal couple(ing) in the eyes of MTA, a multi-state agency and be bound in bustrimony (legally married when riding on a city bus, only) jeez, a crazy poem, not just, not a good one but a true tale from the one who rides the buses and only alights and delights with regaling tales and tellings of love sortie sorrow maybe tomorrow the busbusNYC app wil apply itself a smidgen better and let me love you even with a good under the hood bus poem but! someday we will, this, thy poet, who does desire youalone, will hijack you and a NYC bus, and visit the poets from India and the Great Northwest won't that be a fabulous poem!
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63
Fickle Done in mentioned light... Through and due the common, the still Notice of compliment, a comment of right None The more we save, from the proof of simplicity Story's and a sulking tree, the seldom of fun in the sun Turned to universality, with the eyes of anarchy Amend Sour and refined, refrain from the beauty of compel? The pout of another gift and the choice of feeling's substance Over the quiet since, that has become ours to weal... Things And the duty of a desire in worthing heaven, the hell of unity Given me, and the role of synchronicity a resolve, to sweeten Time is a daring host, to assure even the tiniest of needs, vicinity Arduous Threshold in the lime, the boding of every else, in the book Staid and remembering decorum, like a hell is every cause When we are the understanding home, to a willing look... Force Are we a stir of responsibility in the arms of voice, or its cope? Timid as we are, the calling of it all, is a wisdom's source? Look hard for a nature? when you can have a friend for it's love... Caring True to mellower stares, the throe of uncanny light Made from the none, are we to survive a decision, so faring The response of decency, that a swim with the devil, is also right... Liberty Loan the call, to me for a universe's song Trust is a walking might of the deed, asking the seldom, evil's Is it me, or the shade in a wishes stir, the tout we held all along?
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Oct 10, 2022
Oct 10, 2022 at 4:45 PM UTC
I Found James Dean, In A Bottle Of Milk...
At your feet I worship thee Intertwine intellectually Tantric connect spiritually Achieving synchronicity Set aflame I start to glow Tap the passion in your soul Expanding spirit starts to grow Swimming in ya Goddess flow Feed me pleasure filled with fun Burns me up till I *** Sweat all over starts to run Feeling like I'm never done Illuminate as I penetrate Plant a seed...Thoughts procreate Transform all thee hate Satisfy as I devastate Love me help me overcome Beams of Moon..Rays of Sun Inspirational waters run Worship till we become one..
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Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 7:00 PM UTC
Worship
*stepping back into the west chills reverberate up and down my spine chiseling open obsolescent padlocks dangling with dust on ancient treasure chests pallid colors in the attic release a blossoming familiarity faint hints of retrospections float on faded paper granting me access to roads where no map is needed as i peruse the streets my heart flows coalescing with the vicinity caressing each detail i transform to fluid and fuse with the past through fresh strokes of watercolored memories recollections flash before my eyes revealing antiquated stories though thought forgotten an etched history endeavors to define me renewing itself as i turn each corner i shudder at some remembrances while encompassing others through synchronicity realization hits that I am all of it yet none of it at the same time familiar faces paint meaning onto me no longer do they know me yet they airbrush vestiges of yesteryear and coat me with connotations i allow them to think i am whatever they imagine i morph into their canvas temporarily then break free in multi-dimensionality they don't hear me with a new listening no longer invested in their projections once sharp triggers now appear in soft focus an auspicious mist lies around the edges of my former life it is as if i never left yet traces of the east lie sandpapered in me a maturation commingles with my former self flushing out on my skin tethering newfound emotions a gentle gratitude for home territory nestles softly inward i listen to the clicks of my scuffed cowboy boots on acquainted yet somehow distant sidewalks the echoes layering multiple impressions glimmering with the utter beauty of this terrain as I wander through the majestic rocky mountains drinking in the quaking aspen's crimson edges interfacing the evergreens hushed whispers of autumn loftily rest juxtaposed neatly against futures waiting to unfurl in the wind an amalgamation of intimate sights and scents dance in open wounds dazzling homesickness cured a wholeness returned as winter's crystal dawn blooms i realize the depth of my growth for in leaving here and returning i cherish the west my home ©2016 janetaylor
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May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 3:50 AM UTC
returning west
*stepping back into the west chills reverberate up and down my spine chiseling open obsolescent padlocks dangling with dust on ancient treasure chests pallid colors in the attic release a blossoming familiarity faint hints of retrospections float on faded paper granting me access to roads where no map is needed as i peruse the streets my heart flows coalescing with the vicinity caressing each detail i transform to fluid and fuse with the past through fresh strokes of watercolored memories recollections flash before my eyes revealing antiquated stories though thought forgotten an etched history endeavors to define me renewing itself as i turn each corner i shudder at some remembrances while encompassing others through synchronicity realization hits that I am all of it yet none of it at the same time familiar faces paint meaning onto me no longer do they know me yet they airbrush vestiges of yesteryear and coat me with connotations i allow them to think i am whatever they imagine i morph into their canvas temporarily then break free in multi-dimensionality they don't hear me with a new listening no longer invested in their projections once sharp triggers now appear in soft focus an auspicious mist lies around the edges of my former life it is as if i never left yet traces of the east lie sandpapered in me a maturation commingles with my former self flushing out on my skin tethering newfound emotions a gentle gratitude for home territory nestles softly inward i listen to the clicks of my scuffed cowboy boots on acquainted yet somehow distant sidewalks the echoes layering multiple impressions glimmering with the utter beauty of this terrain as I wander through the majestic rocky mountains drinking in the quaking aspen's crimson edges interfacing the evergreens hushed whispers of autumn loftily rest juxtaposed neatly against futures waiting to unfurl in the wind an amalgamation of intimate sights and scents dance in open wounds dazzling homesickness cured a wholeness returned as winter's crystal dawn blooms i realize the depth of my growth for in leaving here and returning i cherish the west my home ©2016 janetaylor
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66
"unconditional love dinner-dance" so names the advert for an evening of a big shot, posh charitable event, which the glossy Gatsby East Egg magazine implies, if you fail to attend said soirée, you nobody, will have no way to claim truly understanding the composition of an unconditional love dinner dance laugh internally, swirling, riffing on eat love pray, this ditty is what I instantaneously say... *what do these swells, with their self-appointed importance, know to probe/defame my claim, to this poem's title? these are the factors, the stepping stones from my minute to the minute next love am I not oathed, bound unconditionally by my very own name, which life bestowed upon me at birth, to compose of this love in every etching lineage, signed verse kissed upon our faces, then, as well, oh so well, so swell, to kiss our babies whose smooth skin has no familiarity with time and all my love all my love, uncritically makes no distinction dinner she loves me through the silence of my oohing and ahhing, these sounds, escaping willingly, unconditionally, as delight unconstrained at the delicate deliciousness her love has implanted in the dishes she preps, with which she preserves us dance she love to dine upon her laughter at my akimbo'd imitation of 'so idiot, you think you can dance' hip hop begging me between crinkling boisterous hardy laughter, please, not to hurt myself she, a Martha Graham educated, Argentine Tango ballet mistress, a life long dancer whose genes forbid her to pass by the sound of music without breaking out, breaking into dance, in perfect synchronicity to whatever the composer calls upon her, to present the music, to inform us, in body graphic form, unconditionally what they intended us to see within and between each note I need no tuxedo, no fancy dress, no permissions to comprehend the meaning, the actuality, the unconditionally of unconditional love dinner dance* I dine and dance with love daily, and yes, to be very sure, unconditionally for is there any other kind?
0
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 12:10 PM UTC
unconditional love dinner dance
"unconditional love dinner-dance" so names the advert for an evening of a big shot, posh charitable event, which the glossy Gatsby East Egg magazine implies, if you fail to attend said soirée, you nobody, will have no way to claim truly understanding the composition of an unconditional love dinner dance laugh internally, swirling, riffing on eat love pray, this ditty is what I instantaneously say... *what do these swells, with their self-appointed importance, know to probe/defame my claim, to this poem's title? these are the factors, the stepping stones from my minute to the minute next love am I not oathed, bound unconditionally by my very own name, which life bestowed upon me at birth, to compose of this love in every etching lineage, signed verse kissed upon our faces, then, as well, oh so well, so swell, to kiss our babies whose smooth skin has no familiarity with time and all my love all my love, uncritically makes no distinction dinner she loves me through the silence of my oohing and ahhing, these sounds, escaping willingly, unconditionally, as delight unconstrained at the delicate deliciousness her love has implanted in the dishes she preps, with which she preserves us dance she love to dine upon her laughter at my akimbo'd imitation of 'so idiot, you think you can dance' hip hop begging me between crinkling boisterous hardy laughter, please, not to hurt myself she, a Martha Graham educated, Argentine Tango ballet mistress, a life long dancer whose genes forbid her to pass by the sound of music without breaking out, breaking into dance, in perfect synchronicity to whatever the composer calls upon her, to present the music, to inform us, in body graphic form, unconditionally what they intended us to see within and between each note I need no tuxedo, no fancy dress, no permissions to comprehend the meaning, the actuality, the unconditionally of unconditional love dinner dance* I dine and dance with love daily, and yes, to be very sure, unconditionally for is there any other kind?
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69
I envy the cool darkness, now we're apart And the warmth which wrapped your body: Cocooned by your breathing, The secret shadows and angles Which gradually changed every hour Like a dark sundial recording All your limbs tiniest convolutions. I know there was a sort of Kabalistic synchronicity Some algebraic function And if only I'd studied more; If only I'd applied myself better I wouldn't have gotten all the equations wrong Lost the notes, failed the exam. I remember those once acute angles How they fit so perfectly my body's contours Our seams vanished together, smooth soldered In the same molten dream; mouth to mouth Torso upon torso, moving wave unfurled Water of twin oceans, mingled- Now it's only the moonlight that burns.
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Mar 25, 2010
Mar 25, 2010 at 7:56 PM UTC
Miscalculation
I want to grow young with you Watch superhero movies when Our hairs turn silver blue I want you to sing silly songs Snort with laughter at my accents When the days get long I want to color in books with you Read aloud our favorite tales When the moon is full and new I want to be your partner-in-crime Canes tapping in synchronicity When it's adventuring time I want us to skydive, soar, be bold so you and I will be growing young long after our children have grown old
0
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 4:18 PM UTC
Growing Young With You