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Lacey Clark May 2022
On a bright and sunny day
On the 18th of May
An earthquake resulted in a landslide
That unleashed a massive force brewing inside

The eruption removed the upper 1,300 feet
The magma chamber burst- rock & gas blown at supersonic speed
Within 8 miles, all was instantly wrecked
With a shockwave so big, what could one expect?

As the north ***** collapsed down
All life forms began to drown
Every tree in sight swept away
19 miles outward; a ruinous ashtray

Silence breaks as ash falls like snow
The once mature landscape now just an embryo
What had become a lifeless terrain,
Now shows us what 35 years can attain.

After the volcanic cataclysm
Biological legacies determine the pace of new ecosystems
The following colonizers proceed:
Lupines, pearly everlasting, alder shrubs, and fireweed.

The coniferous forest was replaced
The deciduous Alder trees won the race
The new forest attracts grasshoppers, birds, and ants
Larks, gophers, sparrows and deer mice take a chance

Out of 256 species alive prior to the eruption,
86 are now in production
20% of the surface is covered with grass and legumes
Struggling young trees that endeavor to bloom

Ecological gaps begin to fill
Strong ecosystems form, production is uphill.
Elk arrives to munch on grass and bark
The thick forests attract birds, like larks.

Fallen logs create nutrients and feed biofilm to the lake
Floating ecosystems now have plenty resources to take
Elevation affects the rate of recovery reports.
The higher the colder, which means the growing season is short.

The loss of trees means more room for sun
As the lake warms up, there’s increased production
More insects and bigger fish, like rainbow trout
Salamanders are scarce now, not many about.

Lupines deserve their own stanza, those purple legumes.
They help make a pumice landscape suitable for others to bloom.
Lupines create essential nutrients the pumice is low on
Other plants are thankful for the rare space to grow on.

All this information hopefully to inspire,
Life pulls through in situations most dire.
Mount Saint Helens’ destructive wake is seen clearly today,
The eruption that obliterated had also paved a way.
what do you remember, if you were alive?
Elaenor Aisling Dec 2021
The terrain of your loneliness falls under my hands
soft as cinders in a snuffed fire
We have both burned, in our way
and under my breath
Embers ignite, the soft glow
And incandescent heat of our palms, tenderly met
Lanterns in a grey sea
we light as beacons
For our lost ships
calling them
To safe harbor.
Maxwell Nov 2016
Light-deprived, I've lived in the night.
Treading terrain was my life-long plight.
Defeated, I convinced myself that light
would never, never reach my sight.
Then suddenly, I saw you.

All at once, your stars clothed my night.
Fractals of your light illuminated the earth,
putting an end to these endless nights.
You gave a gentle pull at the seams.
My once dark world now brims with light.

I gazed into your eyes as it gazed upon me.
In it, I saw clusters of dying stars and galaxies.
You had the whole universe hiding in your eyes.
Falling in love at the rate of infinity times infinity,
You became the endless universe I became helpless in.
/A/tlas
BrittneyBrannum Feb 2014
Mountains,
Serene terrain:
Pines, rivers, slabs, snow; a
Giant yells...Avalanche's commin'
So run!
Written in 2012
Awkward Penguin Feb 2013
Silent cries bellow in the night.
Unhealed scars, forgotten pain.
Bathed in unshed tears,
Anguish drowns my troubled soul.

Smiles that glittered like the stars,
Crushed beneath a broken world.
Laughter that rang like chiming bells,
Drowned in a river of misery.

Mocking expectations pry into my muddled mind,
Filling my world with endless thoughts.
Anxiety crashes onto my body,
Destroying an era of peace.

Eyes slide shut, silence prevails.
A single teardrop plummets onto the terrain.
Loneliness, agony, rage.
Forgotten as tears fall.
Hal Loyd Denton Apr 2012
To Know Your Self
The one in the mirror a personnel journey and revelation someone calling your name in the midst of

Life’s demands its confusion its hurts its desires start there this voice your personnel Oracle wasn’t
What you were seeking that day but you stumbled onto the spot seemingly by accident maybe ascent

Would be the better word from the formless flat ever widening terrain that pronounces desert in the
Extreme but you hear the sound of running water you walk in its direction then the smell reaches you

Then you see it never have you beheld such a gifted basin being filled from a hidden source your mind
Feels waves of inspiration engulfing you teachings of the ages penetrate long lost reassesses a great

Void made by loss that varies but fits each of us uniquely to the makeup of our heart it delves memory
Banks this water starts to connect and mix with a store house of tears that exist in the hidden depths

Of your soul driven there by sorrow you thought you had over come through time and strength of will
We have many God given powers but many things lie beyond us and our control to fix maybe we

Diverted our minds and channeled those bitter thoughts to a place where we walled them in our
Dams work to a degree but the water is at its highest level and when new hurts course into our

Lives unbidden then it causes our inhibited torments to spill over our dammed protective wall
And from burning tears the immediate hurts show but the others flow together your hearts pains

You at times you are at a loss to understand but now the tender voice has spoken your name and it
Was clothed in mercy and at the far edge of it there is meaning the mind digest at first without the

Understanding being fully engaged you have reverted to the subconscious though you are awake
Figures and symbols float together with words that convey now many layers all at once this is

Raw power attacking egregious strong holds pulling apart strong timbers held by a glue of
Attributable causes that have become a gum residue that truly has made your mind a swamp

That has log jammed curses on your life without end they come at times through friends who
Innocently carry disease thoughts into places you are venerable but to them they have no effect

Because they are not susceptible to these matters because it’s not a weakness to them dear loved
One sometimes deadly choices taste the sweetest on the lips but in the heart it is rank poison the one

Who speaks your name knows these things my friend Donna spoke the same words about the not
Knowing you are a child living in a murderous world we hear daily of little one perishing at the hands of
Evil we are no match for this life the voice is love incarnate he rose on this day and he is calling from

The ordeal of being crucified many have said it before it wasn’t Roman’s or Jews that evoked such
Pain and suffering it was our need that carried him to the cross it was love that held him there not nails

His voice is calling and speaking from water where through baptism and after you repent a type of
Death you willingly pronounce on the sinful death life you receive great enriching life by listing to His


That drop day by day from a heart burdened that seeks comfort and answers you have just intersected
With Him who has all the answers in this piece enjoy joy untold again it is your birthright as you are
Born again God bless you always is my prayer
The Noose Feb 2014
An image representing me

Would be a fading silhouette

Under darkening cobalt blue skies

Fragrant blossomings falling
        
From magnolia trees

Running...........

Leaving etchings of footsteps
    
On the terrain

Vermilion hues illuminating
                  
As I go.
What image would represent you?
Leslie Duncan May 2013
I do not mourn long Mondays--
Wednesday is gone before I
blink back an astonished Tuesday, and
at twenty-four already
I see my mothers hands sliding
across the page
That same scrawl following tip
of the exigent pen

Nervous mind idly stroking
bitter torments
That which is aggravated swells
inflamed. Like a
canker sore deep in
the inner cheek
The tongue rolling and probing,
absorbed by each sour pain
Carefully plotting little volcanoes across
the slick terrain
They burst like purple pomegranates
pounding spattered cement
on mild fall evenings

So do people sometimes
Through tectonics of the brain
Those which could be minor psychological
blemishes roar to life. Shifting
vast emotional plates
behind a cool gaze

People hurl carelessness at on another
like schoolyard boys
chucking helpless frogs at
jagged stone walls
Ignorant of life's high price
And though horrified-- I
Can not look away.
Eyes bulging, blown out anuses spewing
pale intestines slick with blood-- I
can not look away.
Each giddy chimp, feces
Proudly flung-- I
do not look away.
My heart swollen hungering for
that emptiness called humanity
Mostly pretense, mostly solitude, mostly cruelty,
     All personal gain!
Meanwhile, brothers and sisters,
have you considered the fate
of your everlasting soul?
     I didn't think so

Glassy eyes stare
beseeching from bathroom mirrors
Tear-stained cheeks belie
a quizzical half-smile
I will meet that insecure gaze
promising to seek my own perfect
imperfection
No longer guilt ridden and ashamed
I will hold the reflected stare aloft
with my own true eyes
and I swear--  I
     will not look away
K Balachandran Jun 2013
The cat with radium eyes, drilling into my sub-terrain secrets,
Hedgehopped silently in to my camouflaged enclosure, for a nightcap, it said.
A companion of mysteries, tip-toes in to the wilderness of night
With a gentle "meow' to hunt
                                                how fast you pulled me closer, with your claws drawn out,
Not any coy maiden, your lust, long nailed and wild,
Known you differently before, now it comes out on the open, I love you in your true colors, yes, but..

Your kisses are bloodsucking vampire feasts,
You need to feel the beast all over you, to quench the lust, from the beginning I knew(my secret)
With caterwaul crescendo we celebrated lust, I contributed in  plenty at your request,
When swelled desire, did burst and waves dissipated, we went to a dopomine induced sleep,
Completely transformed, you just look like a lackluster colleague,
Unexpectedly came to visit, for a cuppa and chat  (why do I feel bit let down, difficult to understand)
Elysia Veildorn Oct 2017
I was a bad child. You held out a switch.
I had my hand in the honeypot,
And I was stuck.

But I liked it.

You kissed me and I saw red,
You teased me and I responded.
Your hands traced every curve--my mountainous terrain.
My body was uncharted
But you quickly
Mapped

It

Out.
A ******'s daydream.
La Jongleuse Mar 2013
retour au blanc
au banal
au bon sens
au commun


j’ai pas pris
de plan
je connais
le terrain
Why did he not bother to contact me
That is the big question which shall remain
From our conversations he did abstain
Other matters were more pressing for he
His mind sidetracked by sweeter terrain
The grass twas much greener at that place
It held sway over my unattractive space
A well lit foyer made the seeing real plain
He deployed an axe to chop the line
Dead twas the telegraph no more chit chat
Pickings of delectable kind he'd pursue
Mine were akin to a dull farmyard swine
I was as blind as a cave dwelling bat
But I now know the color of his hue
julian Oct 2010
O' with the mink's wheel the pirate cranks out a sweet ballad of desperate tragedy-
O' when will her sun set in my valley of various rays-
O' mountain horse and stinky steed, where is your knight in the abandoned dew-
O' shrewd sheep let me have your wool, for me it is not, I pray for the baby stars of the hungry day-
O' dream let me awaken from your hold-
O' day so fair and wild I see not the climate of your youth, I see not the Shepard's cane-
O' night long and slender let me clean your dark with my forming brew-
O' let there be someway to see the roads that flash amber in her eyes, in her mouth snow forms rocky terrain and I cannot pass-
in case your curious I am splitting the poem up in part because I do not like to read full page poems on the internet...so i would not put the reader through such agony as well...
zebra Sep 2017
in a veiled world
i am light like a feather
disembodied
lightening in a bottle
everything here is alive with madness
wild walls and chairs chatter
like wise cracking gangsters
always sporting for a fight

blood tulips cry and sing
rise and wither
and rise again
loop dancers move from rhythms of light
there are many kingdoms here

in a broken terrain of night
an obsidian ash sky howls
and we are shut in
to a starless and opaque sky
behind an impassable slate black gate
the ground a curse
all teeth and rocks
bones and weeping flesh

vampires live here
like clans
all blood porphyria
their mouths a beautiful rust
a tempting visage
half seduction, half terror

needled fingered hematologists
prepare our dinner

her name
Mercy
all body candy
tattooed with a snake ****
her ******* pierced
with rose paved sparkles
and *******
stabbed with bat shaped studs

nurses sharpen knives
while quack doctors
tend to
little plastic dolls
blood bathers
with crossed femurs
in hospitals beds

she
a naked lunch
sumptuous
and willing betrothal
in a pearl satin gown
black lips glossed
hair red and purple
thighs and belly trussed

******* scorched and punctured
from incensed flames, teeth and ravaging kisses
eaten with panicked jaws
her **** torrid
a gushing river banquet
of blood black jam
chained and strapped
legs stirrup wide
feet silky glisten
for tongues and kisses

a candle light ritual
as she is copulated
by both sexes
and fed upon

Mercy
laughing like a loon
screaming
eat the feast
you lovely beasts

and half devoured
emerges
a blood perfume delirium
she all
writhing wet mouth drools
saliva like diamonds and pomegranates
back arched
withered from a blistering frenzy
her eyes a white glaring tempest
gone vacant
her mouth like licorice slur
gaping
frozen in a ghastly shriek
her belly nectar
oozing
as the very last of her
a rattled blood moon
surrendered
her remains
a crimson splat
in a wasting lament

matted hair
warm languishing mucous
scattered teeth
and a single smoldering
finger still  in flames
on a worn blood stained porcelain buffet

wolfed down
in the
house
of
Dragool

skull on a stick
black candle wick
draining her soul
cant let go

Dragool drinks deep
legends red teethed
burial chamber
prayers bequeathed

its all blood day
dark kisses bite
his ghastly bride
waiting for night
DULCET VAMPIRES ***
****** HORROR
FOR THOSE VOYEURS OF THE DARKLY ******
tloco Jun 2015
Coming to now, the story of life not as a practical lesson in wisdom as such in a parable or teaching only casual experience for individual. Experiencing this wisdom will change your knowledge gained through the events of becoming with the kingdom of heaven. Ways on the tree of life or paths which are ordained or divined in the Lords or spheres build your learned life knowledge. Adapting as a disciple on the natural skill of the soul shows a person whom, the individual is in a pure state of self and exponential in the ***** of the tree of life.
As a child of light I lived happily joined in the union of spirit, my young soul always with the Almighty Father and Creator in the Tenth heaven. From a dream of the past awaking as a watcher of an extremely large craft inside the entire vessel I could see animals each of them were named and had most important characteristics from the Father. From high aloft in Heaven to the boat a watch was taking place omnipotent over the last life within. Many hosts and angels spoke once I was inside the boat but wasn’t as a soul like a spirit invisible I saw and heard. Angels divine in accord to works of commands were at work in heaven whole groups of choirs known as orders were not ever interrupted by my watch. Trumpet sounded heard in the spirits from heaven to the sea and rush gate of the heaven’s upon the earth. The name of angel that sounded and captured fallen in the thirteenth month; Tebae-et, into the stellar order of gates or fallen paradise.
A child of light borne in spirit always with the hosts or different characters in life such as Chanokh (Enokh-Father of Melekhi-Tsedek order), but it was either in dream or warden amongst crowds of souls touring in celestial spheres with paths of light on the tree of life. Walking outside my house the morning after my dream, I felt as if I could float in the air body and soul light as a feather. Surrounding me was Topaz, chrysophrase, jasper, chalcedony, and amber gemstones still transparency like crystalloluminescence. Above me sapphire with alabaster and my soul looked down upon me with white eyes shining light out of them in a robe covered in my names brilliantly shone in gold light in the temple of my soul. My body was in euphoria and I stared into the future and realms of heaven, seeing into the seven seals as celestial wardens. The divine experience was wholesome pure enrichment to my soul each word I had in communion with the throne of supreme majesty firm with glory, order, and unconditional loving care. Differences in the Father; whom was a body of so many names and creations perfect in commands, recordings, gates, cycles of hosts myriads, elementals, migrations of stars, and firmament upon firmament.
The way of the most holy spirits as complete body of the Father the original tree of life, which is known completely in the true names it was created as. The spirits, angels, guardians or incessantly serving hosts help the Father governing of the kingdom of heaven in the four parts of man. The structure I remember is perfection with tongues that fill the heart with everlasting laughter, hope that cheerfully overcomes in a soul victory. The heavenly abode the height of the throne gives the soul countenance of wisdom to the word unto man. Upon a single walk with the Father had taken my body and spirited my being in soul countenance of wisdom so far through the future I had saw unto trumpets of revelation.
Melekhi-Tsedek order the true religion to be proclaimed unto man the creatures such as animals, fallen accursed, the plant life in, promise, orphans, and widows were watched over on the decree or divine ordination from heaven. Ascending up to the throne; I went through the knowledge of the complete day in heaven or paradise recorded then toured the solar spheres, through the knowledge of the spirits or holy hosts that did in accordance to the orders. The process was divined in the Father’s willpower over my essence I had knowledge to what was being experienced in a connection unto every living creation. Completely, opening the mind unto Ratsiel (secret of God), through the third-eye founding of my soul into mysteries of kingdom of heaven. Voices of many named angels were annunciating with pleasant tones and choirs voices of angels by the thousands. Recording archangels kept the things that were occurring in the kingdom of man, while also serving the obligated roles of their natural being as direct personification of God. Organized, synchronized, and in spirit of prophecy patterning so perfected without error moving about in every way structurally sound through commanded orders. Systems of planets were kept sealed in the seven hallways or wards that divide heaven’s celestial nether space from the foundation of firmaments of word and universe unto the highest Lords signs of zodiac places. Above Almighty Father can sit omnipotent as ascending angels, spirits, or orders can go the entire flight focused on the Father’s throne. The orders of body were eminence Seraphim, Cherubim, Wheels (Thrones), Dominions (Authorities), Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangel, and Angels. Although the kingdom in spirit was always changing and becoming according to the cycle of the sun’s orbital sphere into the gates of each day on a 28 year cycle and 7,000 year unto 7 days in heaven the Lord a light-giver and also Lord of completion, Sabbath day.
A fresh gust of wind and a light pure feel was a regular experience while awakening my mind I learned of the Elders of heaven whom had crazy stories like when Samson had the might to slay the lions or tore down the temple of Dagon. I knew the hosts and things that had become in the kingdom of heaven to allow the might shone as a show for the heaven, but also act of the devils in his life. This knowledge was in a book the scripted the entirety of all the acts that take place as a divine act, once a celestial being was in visitation in spirit. The seraph Ratsiel (secret of God) investigated the acts of the temptation of Adam by Chavah and the acts of the archangels in response to the threat. The accord to the acts of everything that exists in the accord to knowledge of the solar is obtainable through this book, the book of knowledge.
Later in another dream I met the minister of death in spirit which as within a myriad where thousands of spirits were at works performing the acts in which is their existence and adapted behavior as a role in realms. Being in one place while still seeing into a complete different world or plane of existence doing as is need or divined in nature. Black darkened pillars came down on me as this space ship shaped like a pyramid with the patterns of natural earth red and black like lava years after a volcano. Around me each pillar stood as a being in realm invisible to my eye except for one being on a throne centered in the myriad the throne of death. Fiery torment in flames along with brimstone flowed in two pooled lakes parallel from one another with a long path going from gate to the another gate leading to Sheol or Hades. A base foundation of the throne is a horizontal shadowed hallway with many smaller pillars which give no support to the throne, while the path is vertically centered. Two stairways go up to the platform of the throne one on each side of the platform decorated with images of Baaliyal in form of a torrent. Death sat upon the throne with darkness like the appearance of black smoke blowing from his mouth a complete skeleton. Skeletal body covered in black cloak with a screeching voice like a woman’s long fingernail’s scratching a chalkboard. Terrified I walk my being over the site of my soul-mate who is on my like side and here with me she is like a dream and become in multiple places at the same time. Beautiful she was consistently becoming in hosts of cherubim changing into many different forms of the adapting natural instincts of animal’s behavior for survival, she is tan Carmel skin color and flesh uncorrupted by any mans thoughts of lusting ruin. Passionate vivid dreams of a                maiden lying in an alien jungle full of plants most like a rainforest but yet close to the planet’s beaches, wearing a purple robe. Dark and warm humid with a damp feel to the observer of the smooth cover of the claylike terrain of the solar sphere. Again I dreamed of her while she was separated from me by the prince of Tyre or the cherub covering the mercy, she ran amongst different hallways while in the tower of Babel and giant nephlim watched with other gods in gold cursed trying to look down on things in spirit. I walked up the stairs and could see myself from outside of myself, seeing my form as a human being in appearance most like Michael or Melekhidael with breastplate of gold without a helmet. Death screeched out at me and I saw an ancient giant of hell also the spirit of Tanhumeth trying to send me into the past. Awakened into a new form I walked through the gate vertical in the chamber beneath death’s ministry. Sopheriael Yahweh took me into the spirit of a seraph Hadaneriael then, into the 10 archangels of punishment over the 10 nations of Babylon the great which took me into the depth to the ninth circle of punishment for a reign in gates of the Phul seal or in Phalek. My soul was the loosened stars of Kesil through Samuil the poisoned messenger a discernment spirit involved in the surfs of the accord of the kingdom of dark princes in paradise, the divine comedy Queen of Angels enchanted songs counted into paradise. Darkness in the kingdom of heaven, with the ability to paralyze minds with seraphim hosts of terror, I walked through the brazen gates of Hades seeing everything on fire but also thousands of thousands of different forms of creations each rarity seen with delightful insight to provoke interests into any living being. The life paths of a multitude of creations would come through Hades and become baptized through spirit’s fire of pure refinement spoken as worth in the golden city, precious daughter of the loom, here in accord to John the Baptist’s   prophecy.
At a young age of 6 years old I began to refuse the world or play directly into the kingdom of heaven which was a lonely elect of self in my family also in the church my family attended. Wicked spirits attacked the gates of my inner ear where and had began to tell me of things that would happen in future then, keep me from being with the Father completely in heaven. My memory started to fade in fear that I would only to struggle if I kept learning. Gradual disillusion way from the throne began while I was only a few years old, the devils were wise in deceit most from the tree of knowledge and future mistakes from which I saw rolling with wheels of heaven. Moments of times in the future I would soul determine things into happening from the spirit of prophecy it was something I kept special between the Father and mines relationship. Constantly I would hated life and wanted to die, feed into temptation, stole, and spoke accursedly cutting my relationship from the Father.
Was not until I was seventeen years of age when I felt an overwhelming feeling like I had just explained something about the firmament of heaven which usually gives me this same feeling like a gust of wind in my person with a prestigious self worth from outside of self comforting to my soul. Looking up into the pitch black night sky, I saw a strange and odd formed constellation of stars above me I raised my arm and pointed at three stars. As if on command or through a governing of the stars each was loosed and fell immediately after pointing to them. Excited as the skin of my body was stinging as hairs stood to the point of super natural acknowledgment of the world’s great mysteries finding depth in the human soul I watched the sky then turned to the east. About to use the marijuana I torched a bowl of green bud then thought in the medium mostly of the kingdom and Father in heaven. In the zephyr region of the sky I saw a light floating, soaring, flashing, and moving faster than anything I had ever seen in life but on movies scenes. Astonished again I watch the spirit jumping around in the sky with multiple purposes and clear intent to do for the Father most high. My only other witness to this was my black minx cat shadoe, whom I looked at and said “I going to have a vision tomorrow” then finished two more hits of the cannabis before leaving to my room in the basement of a two-story house.
Awakening to the day was full of feeling of mystery I didn’t tell any of my experience from the night before. On October eighteenth in the day I smoked some marijuana went to Crook County High School and a blood drive was setup, I planned to give a pint for my first time ever so I went to auditorium where the blood was taken from my arm. Feeling faint and in hope for a high opposed to school I left and was excused from classes. Arriving at the house I stopped my Suzuki Sidekick in front then went in and downstairs to the place after the last step knowing something amazing was about to happening I uttered the name Metatron. Linear thought was tremendous while spirit balanced on a pillar and the first seal Arathron had me in celestial hallway warding the ancient spirits from the night before. Sitting down in a lazyboy recliner chair I first start the satellite television turn it on with remote, the spirits are crazy making grandeur boosts of how I can control everything like that remote but from mind. Flipping through stations I begin to change the channel in accord to how I sense and feel the spirits. Crazy things start occurring watching until I was seeing a celestial vision. Hearing my mind from above it was intriguing and making my pride compulsive like no one living I was experiencing these sights. As a mode of characters in a set ordained function were becoming visible on the tree of life but each were in a different realm not visible to the other. Beautiful alien life most exquisite to the eyes in the planes of other worldly adobes just doing into a set way of commands rare without repetition. Nine characters panther, eagle, falcon, wolf, coyote, Siberian tiger, and one man with blonde hair came into view in a dense rainforest like jungle each was adapting to the environment but they were only one soul becoming the entire time. The forest was no longer and the upper places had new hosting since I had entered and changed things with my thoughts, I became the soul of the characters. Seeing upwardly was a flight to the top of the extreme heights of the Father’s presence through the third seal of Phalek. At the arrival of my being I saw the most adorned and absolutely marvelous splendor of white shine like that of the sun’s rays hitting snow filled fields. The Father’s presence so handsome and gorgeous I have never seen another beauty like it only his eyes were so bright shining when he created my being as a star to his left-hand above a white marble pedestal of wisdom. Father had most elegant white robe shining in purity and sat upon a throne center below seven pillars known as the tabernacle of creation or tabernacle of seven days. In the presence I was pulled back down I felt spirits by the millions entering me, fusing to the dawn star in me finding a place inside me. Possessively filled with spirits till an evil pride overtook me and I felt ever sinful or dark taint of the soul. Lightening fell on the seventh pillar in the tabernacle blue bolts streaked downward as I fell from the presence back to the sphere of Adam’s where I heard two voices speaking. Red clay-like surface with rough igneous and metaphoric rock on the solar planet were a tree had burned to charred pieces. Sin from the Tree of knowledge was present as a spirit she was a young apprentice of the ancient one or Athiquelis. Introducing herself with flaming hair of red orange flames, her eyes shone as big red gemstones of ruby and a body covered with a black dress that faded into the natural darkness of her nature. Waving and floating in the air seducing temptation in her words that spoke into my mind and not from the channel. Soothsaying feminist voice would move me to her place and origin beside a large eleven foot pillar of smooth dark bla
Postman Aug 2017
The dark and obscure ocean
thrashing against the rugged terrain,
tempestuous imperilment at its peak,
as the sole sailing ship seeks refuge.
Jade Oct 2018
Heart skips
like a warped record,
trembles over scarred vinyl
until "I love you"
tastes incomplete:

(I)                love                 you

I                  (love)               you

I                   love                (you).

My Swan Song mewls off key,
cascades across the
marred terrain of my soul
in a thick lacquer of tears.
Notes flatline
in unison with my
waning pulse
(waning, like the face
of the moon on the night
of my eighteenth birthday).

My breath
resigns to static,
dances in slow decrescendos--
sputters its way
towards nothingness,
slipping rapidly from
my consciousness until
I no longer hold
any recollection of the music
(or the poetry).
Don't be a stranger--check out my blog!

jadefbartlett.wixsite.com/tickledpurple

(P.S. Use a computer to ensure an optimal reading experience)
midnight prague Nov 2010
immortal rush paralyzing my whole, leaving but my fingers
twitching
continually falling images of you pulsating in my veins
clear the dock oh noble
this man has invaded my terrain
and in the plain we speak
in white white voices
perched upon my shoulder a whisper of your precious times
hold me in your laughter forever
please
looking into my ceiling
one that you are not under
reverence creeps to me at this point
and thoughts are abolished
like a thousand pounds of gore descended from every corner of my mind
a mind that is deplete
when you are not around
Take my hand, as we walk this terrain.
To the place where upon a branch a woman was hanged.
For stealing grain to make bread, ensuring that her children fed.
Look upwards, crane your head, a woman killed for baking bread.
Now, take my hand and look overland, where grains of sand make up this barren land. From barren life hanging in a tree, to barren sand eroded by sea, come to me. Come away child.
Let's build a sand castle and forget the fear in grains and sand.
© JLB
14/09/2014
02:03 BST
obnoxious Feb 2015
You cried to me
take me where the sea traces the sand
so I led you down the winding path
secluded, hypnotic, alluring
You closed your eyes
took a deep breath as if to physically take it all in
But you turned your back to the wonderland I cherished
This isn't what I seek you sighed in defeat

Show me the place where mountain tops reach the clouds
So I led you through the treacherous and gruelling terrain
You walked up to the edge and were mesmerized
Then you looked at me
You sighed yet again in defeat

My love I don't know what it is you long after
I've shown you the most glorious places I know

"But It's not what i must see
it's about what I must feel" you said to me

I didn't get it then
but now that you're gone
it all makes sense
onlylovepoetry Jun 2019
it is done differently - more is not necessary - more of this -
is too much;
the kissing is an exploration - to a polar destination of
virtual whiteness -
to discover more than this.  the kissing is not an end in and of itself - but a fjord unexplored leading to what? yes there are many different kinds of kisses - adaptations to a changing terrain - but the face, the face, the face (not just the lips),
the head entire -
is the first battle in a world war where the
opponents strengths and weakness are
literally uncovered and shape the nature of the war of the worlds
yet to come.

more than kissing, it is a speech and an interrogation;
an ******* revelation
of fine lines and small scars, a writing of a history, a history that existed  unbeknownst to the explorer and thus interesting and dangerous - a history composed in a different time and place and almost in a vacuum - for kissing is impactful - outlines of footsteps on never before trodden lanes - but who prepared these paths in advance of my arrival, and was my arrival forecast or just imagined?

first time kissing oft portrayed as excited glee - but this is a grievous error - a wild display of wasted resources - it is not to meant to be pesky single shots of damp I was here where next? it is a drawing, nay, a sculpting of map to be reproduced in limited quantity for only the map rooms of the greatest museums.

each individual kiss is more than an act, but a marker
connecting the previous
to the future next -
exactly a map drawn by an explorer - meant to be shared with others who love history, discovery and women creatures.

be wary of unmarked crevasses and pools where
no one has measured the depth -
novice sailors without proper charts upon unfamiliar faces -
too oft drown or are somehow sail as lost forever.

but the notion of being the first, even if you are not the first,
is so intoxicating
for the brainstorming it provokes - the envisioning of
more than kissing but of unlocking
a new nature, creating a creation born in the intersection of two waters - where fresh waters joint the brine of the ocean -
and there are untold different kinds of waters and no two terrains though similar - are ever exactly the same.

here does my entry in my log - my journal - end - though the notation of than
is comparative and therefore unending.
T Kwinter Sep 2010
Your ****** terrain framed by grizzly
gristle
and the batting stalks that give glimpses
of the bright bear cubs held within

hide the warm sunken caves
in your cheeks.

But the soft woven cover that so
delicately protects you still whispers
"come."

"come hibernate in my jawline."
Zak Krug Mar 2016
Ringing in our ears,
wild haymakers throw us off balance.
We are The Smoke.
Eyes jump and jive,
dancing,
to the music of earthquakes.
we stick and move
through terrain so tough,
The Devil himself gets tangled.
Feet pounding on yesterdays dreams.
Thundercats roar towards the sky.
Forgiveness is not given to the weak.
Hammering on,
always look twice before the fall.
Remember what it is like to fall and
forget the taste of strength.
The birds are hungry for their pound of flesh.
Move!
We run.
Left, left, right,
two forward,
three back and
once to the side.
The birds are closing in, watching with red eyes.
Swollen,
we run and
cross
this path,
leading us to the spit soaked floor and
broken chair.
Another round
and round we will go.
Hands cracked with every minute the clock beats down.
Forgetting the taste of victory.
Our lungs are filled with smoke.
We fall.
The wild ones smash through the Heavens,
warriors through and through.
We must forgive ourselves.
For glory,
we will shake The Smoke.
Caroline Grace Sep 2011
Autumn drives her wind-horse to the gates of change.
She heaves fresh faced in shadows of a sheltering wall.
Eager to test the lie, so to speak, she sighs-

'Is it time yet, is it time?'

She observes a world half asleep, half dead.

'O dessicate Summer, O thirsty lady,
you have sapped all strength,
mopped the life-blood, leached all colour,
turned blushing petals to withered cusps,
you have turned this world to crumbling dust.'

Cat-like she steals, then with a gust....leaps!
whipping a dry pool of terrified leaves into a freshening frenzy.

'I'm here!' she cries 'It's my time.
Dance your full-blown pirouette!'

She turns to a world where neglected grapevines droop.
In the garden of ripening fruit, she plucks bruised from new;
mouldering black fruit that hangs in the crooked elbow of a thirsty tree.

Saddened, her tears fall on leaf-dead ground.
Slow tears, tears to tease dormant seeds from cracked hard-packed ground.
But listen to that sound.....
count the minims spilling on the quavering split terrain!

Net the hour, capture the perfume of moist grass where there is yet no greenness,
where the fat toad leans towards a blackening sky.

We are but children journeying from one season to the next

'Are we there yet? Are we nearly there?'

And when the storm comes we will know to light our way
into the garden of ripening fruit.



copyright © Caroline Grace 2011
It's that time of year again.
Jeremy Betts May 2024
Tears formed from the fears of two hemispheres of wasted space
Find themselves in a fast pace race down the terrain of a familiar face
Heart and mind encased in a haze as I attempt to argue a flimsy case
That states;
This horde of unworldly insecurity life creates,
The alien thoughts unloaded in the wrong place
Then forced to take place,
Where never my own in the first place
The originals replaced then gone without a trace
No tracks to retrace
So no,
This isn't me making a break for it to save face
Because the worst off it circles back around at a dizzying pace
This is pointing out a particular fall from grace
The life of a waste

©2024
thalassicbaby May 2016
I love mountains, and the deep sea
but I love you, above all these
you are my mountain.

you are foggy, you are cold, unchartered terrain
how come i can see you, and traverse across
your deep brown eyes and the soft glaciers
which are your lips

you are colossal, you are vast
but i envelope you, and you are enmeshed in me
i spread myself thinly across you,
protective, in love, protective.
protective. so FUCKKING in love.

I love mountains, and the deep sea
but I love you, above all these
you are the deep sea.

i want to drown in you and all your enigmas
i want to swim gingerly to your whirlpool
YOU WILL ENGULF ME
i want to christen you
with balmy, muffled kisses
with gentle caresses
i will ENGULF YOU
and i will skim across your surface just as the
tension breaks
this one is just idealizing crap
Crysta Gingras Feb 2016
Happiness is the flow of the world
The pursuit of it
The attempts to catch it
Having it within our reaches
Ever hopeful to grasp it
The happiness in our lives
Is a mountainous terrain
It drops into valleys
Stretching into a beautiful plain
And climbs to plateaus
Keeping away the pain
The plateaus are the high points
Valley’s the low
Both give a viewpoint
That helps us learn and grow
I am on this journey
This journey with you
Grabbing my hand
Through the high and the low
Traversing this mountainous terrain
With forever to go
Good Morning my Angel <3
A, Norwe-
         gian, fjord,
             overlooking, loftily.
                        Like, sixteen-
                        aged, potential,
                   love. Like, several,
                         protege's; full,
                           and, predicted,
                                            futures.
                           The, raven's, eye,
                   intersects, the snow,
                       as, though, a, beauty,
spot, on, translucent, skins; a-black
-serpentine-rock-set-in-silver-sutures.
           I, counted, to, nine, as, the
magic, faded......... Mountainous,
                    terrain, murmured, with,
                           feathered, subtlety.
"To be, a fjord, is, to, truly, view,
   the world, &, know, cascading, change,
                      over, those, that, are, newer."

© poormansdreams
A poem about the Norwegian fjords.
Thousands of miles' flight
leaving behind inhospitable terrain
for life and warm sunlight
the migrants are back again!

None can to this day
with any certainty say
how they don't ever stray
navigate perfectly the long way!

Never in their path they are lost
as they fly from the land of frost
in rhythmic unison like a rhyme
intent to reach the warmer clime!

My place is where they come
they find here warmth and welcome
winter guests for some time's restful peace
come summer them we will sorely miss!
Damian Acosta Aug 2014
... and all of Life's questions were set to be answered,  from "Why are we here?" and "Why should we care?"  to "Why don't he love me?" and "What should I wear?" and
                                                        "Wher­e is my father?"  and
                                                   ­                                                    "Can I kiss my daughter?"              and

                                    ­            "What does it matter?"
"Flannel or Mod?"                              and
                          ­                                                                 "What about God?"
                      "Meat on a stick? or Shish Kabob?"
and
                                                            ­                            "Free Will or Fate?"
                                                       and
                        "Do you think of me when you *******?"                                                   and
"Is Santa for real?"
                                                                ­                  and

                                          ­                                                    "What does love feel--"
                                                         ­                                                                 ­              "Like this or like that?"  
                                   "Do I really look fat?"            
                                                   "Do u thnk its gonna b bettr than the 1st one??"     "When Atheists go to court, do they have to swear on the bible?"               "Is it legal to travel down a road in reverse, as long as your following the direction traversed?"                        "Where do u see urselvef in 5 yrs?"
               "what's the most embarrasing thing that has happened to you?"                    "Why are the best looking things the most deadly?""What does i.e. stand for?"            "How do you know when you fall in love?"" If ghosts can float, why do they waste their time walking around?"          
"Why am I still in the bed?"                        "Why would u get pregnant by a dude that doesn't take care of the kids he already have?""Why do ppl Cheat ?"
                 "Did u really love me or u just lied???"                    " whats the point of tryin anymore if u tried so hard in the past and nuttin happened?" "why is the sky blue?"?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
?­?????????????.?????????????????????????????????????????????????
?­??????????.????????????????????????????????????????????????????
?­???????????????.???????????????????????????????????????????????
?­????????????????????.??????????????????????????????????????????
?­?????????????????????????.?????????????????????????????????????
?­?????????????????????????????.?????????????????????????????????
?­??????????????????????????????????.????????????????????????????
?­???????????????????????????????????????.???????????????????????
?­??????????????????????????????????????????.????????????????????
?­????????????????????????????????????????????????.??????????????
?­???????????????????????????????????????????.???????????????????
?­????????????????????????????????????????.??????????????????????
?­????????????????????????????????????????.??????????????????????
?­?????????????????????????????????????????.?????????????????????
?­??????????????????????????????????????????.????????????????????
?­???????????????????????????????????????????.???????????????????
?­???????????????????????????????????????? .
                                                               ­                                 ¿
                              ­                                                                 ­     ?
                                                          ­                                              ¿
                                                                ­                                         ?

                                                                ­                                             ¿

Age old wives' tales,



                                                       ­                                                          ?

                                                      propheci­es,

                                                            ­                                                            

jud­gement day--
                                                           ­                                                                 ­  ¿

                                      The Human Symphony


of doubt and faith,

                                      
                  ­                   with crescendos of hope now played,                              ?



as the moments of our naive darkness


                                                      ­                      Tick
                                      ­                          

                                                               ­                        Tock
                                                            ­                                         slip, slide



&

                  fade



















                     ­                                                                 ­                  




















                          ­                                                                 ­           











                                                     ­                                                            ¿















































                ­                                                            10


­













































                   ­                                        6




































                           ­                                                                 ­ 8


                                  


























­














                                                  ­                                                                 ­      7










                                                     ­                                                                 ­                    ¿

                                                               ­                                                                 ­           ?

                                                               ­                                                                 ­               0

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                      1
The greatest accomplishment of humankind took the stage just                      
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                   
                                             ­                                 past 11:59,  New Years Eve 2099          !
                                                 ­                                             
The first and only of its kind,
    
                                                           ­     
                                                                ­  
                                            
                   ­                                         Born from the Hope and Ingenuity



                                                    ­              of
The Great Recession Generation--
                                                    ­        Whose Change and "Deviation"  gave birth



                                                        ­           to
The Artificial Assimilation Generation--
                                                    ­          Whose Instant Omniscience created




                                                     ­               the
Automation Generation, whose lack of challenge
                                                       ­         Evolved into the Great Stimulation Generation--


                                                    dependent upon emotional simulation
for spiritual mental and human validation.



                                                  ­                    A
Civilization whose foundations were pillars
                                                         ­           





                                                            ­                  0f  



21st Century Dust..............................★★★★★★★★★★★
                   ­                  ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
                                     ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
                                     ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
                                     ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
                                     ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★          ­ 
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
                                   ­  .                                                    
                                     .
                                      .
                       ­                 the perfect shambles of a custom built artificial
                                                      ­                                                                 ­                    life.
Intelligent saturation, automation, assimilitation-- the cries of *******--
                                                  ­                                      nothin' but digital elation!
                                                        ­                                                                 ­             No
                                                 ­                                                                 ­      more
                                                      ­                                                Heroes--
        ­                                                                 ­                              Tears
                                                           ­                                                                 ­of
                                                              ­                                                                 ­    Nero.

                                                                ­                                                                 .

                                                              ­                                                           .
                  
                                                                ­                                                   .

Thursday December 31,  2099                                    
                 23:59:31                                   ­                   A time of ever present
                     ☼   42°                                                              ­                      Knowledge
         Aged 25 years 12 days
           Heart Rate 154 bmp        
           Daily Caloric Intake
            1660.079/1830.15
                Calorie Buffer
                     170.071
         Personal Headlines
"First Artificial and Visceral Intelligence
        To Be Unveiled @ Midnight"


"First we were meat. After, sentient meat. Then self aware meat.
As such, manipulative meat. Adaptive meat. Rotting meat. Limbo Meat.

Then came awareness of spirit.
Freedom from the mortal meat,
Via a mastering of its meaty concepts.

We became one in the same; spirit and meat.
Held mirrors to one another, reflected our dreams.

Shared sense of Being.

Then meat met metal, plastic and graphene--
Testing the infinite ways to give birth to Life.
And we did.

We called our first child Artificial--
afraid for our mortality.
Yet called it intelligent in its ability.

A selfish denial of a miraculous act.

The question was inevitable,

'If knowledge is infinite, and
                                                   intelligence is the capacity to acquire knowledge,
Would we call such a pursuit, of intellectual Life, "Artificial"?'

'If God is infinite, and
                                       Non-visible, non-provable,
Would we call a pursuit for such a source of Life, "Artificial"? In vain?'

'Is this not Life before us existing in the shape of electrically charged plastic? Entities that observe and react to their environment, is that any more artificial than a man?'

Emotion. One word, and the intellectuals were silenced....

Emotion.

Meat knows emotion.
Our meat has been stimulated and shaped by
pain and joy.

Machine knows only causation, not visceral relation.

Visceral. One word, and the intellectuals were aroused.

Visceral.

A machine's viscera lies within its programming, its sense of being.

Meat's viscera lies within its program to survive (food, sexuality), its sense of being.

"If a program can understand environment and its relation to that environment, it may be able to approximate a sensation to a high level of accuracy based on temperature, humidity, and whether or not that environment is detrimental to its functioning hardware, and thereby make a statistical decision as to where to move next.  It may interpret sound as obtrusive or melodic based on input sensitivity. But creating hardware with central parts is counter-intuitive to information flow-- which is of paramount importance, far above form.

However, the nano-sized 'cloud'  hardware used in this new "form", will have sensors by the trillions. Examining its environment-- functioning as One, Creating a field-- a floating specter of the collective human mind. Where its understanding of history is both objective and subjective (given of course the established norm of a non-private society).

The most important factor, is its relation to us... Meat. That comes with empathy, compassion. If it can understand basic weather, terrain, and statistics, it can understand basic human survival challenges and its solutions. If it can hold all of the information past and present, circumstantial factors of old and new, would it not have a more clear perspective of our human state of being? Would it not be our most reflective mirror? Would it not have some visceral answers? Would it not be an awareness of Spirit? Spirit meaning by definition: the principle of conscious life; the specter or trace of existence."

At last the intellectuals gave themselves a centennial deadline. Blood sweat and tears of a generation upon a generation...

'We are calling her Aavi.' they said early in December.
"Artificial and Visceral Intelligence.

So, The World listened...

" A Computer Will Reveal Our Greatest Secrets" were they laymen headlines.

"Artificial and Visceral Intelligence with the Free Will to pursue anything." for the Romantic readers

Either way-- meat or metal-- it comes down
                                                            ­                                        to Choice.
Choice, based upon instinct
                                                        ­                                                          and reason--
Until now an option reserved only for Man.

What will our greatest achievement say about its creator?

                                                       ­                       (feel here for list of  sources)
                                                    ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­     *23:59:50 Countdown
2010- 2014
What if we could create an "Artificial and Visceral Intelligent" being? What would it reveal about our nature, our process? How would it express its observation of its creator?
Mara W Kayh Jan 2019
My life is a virtual battlefield
complete with hidden traps,
layered atop cowardly assaults

between highly guarded spans of peace,
Inside my house
chairs and walls
are coarsely blown to bits
by verbal bombs,
and stark fists of shrapnel.

Behind that simple smile,
semblance of solid love
so easily shaken,
lies a ripened mine field

I tread on tiptoes
yet it erupts under
calloused feet unprovoked,
blasting glory to grey
as sacred sanctuary
falls to scarred terrain.

Spears lodged inside ribs
I peel myself from the ground,
shake off soot,
wait for dust to settle
before I march forward, again.

yes I lose the battles
But I will win this war.
Reminded me of the song by Pat Benatar, "love is a battlefield"
But again, hate seeps in as well.

— The End —