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Onoma Nov 2016
Known, let it be--of sight inhaling the fragrance
of roses...of touch hearing the impactful sounds
of stones sacramentally tasted.
The senses shall be as misappropriated goods
in an open air market--coveted by a Singularity
that shall bore them away.
By blameless necessitation what sense took its
turn of sense...called upon by a thoroughgoing
life.
That life solemnly sworn to solidified places of
light--whose need of need, aggrieves not its
reversion to light, but shines upon flesh's folding.
As every burden reaches for its reason, reaching
what's unburdened by virtue that reach.
As Virgil guided Dante through the dark wood,
he was once guided to offer guidance, the
unbreakable watchfulness of crossing paths.
Of guides, there are many--untold many, that the
idea of emptiness at any given moment, is merely
an interchangeability from fullness...ebulliently so.
The senses shall be as misappropriated goods
in an open air market...coveted by a Singularity
that shall bore them away.
Onoma Oct 2014
Known, let it be--of sight inhaling the fragrance
of roses...of touch hearing the impactful sounds
of stones sacramentally tasted.
The senses shall be as misappropriated goods
in an open air market--coveted by a Singularity
that shall bore the away.
By blameless necessitation what sense, took its
turn of sense...called upon by a thoroughgoing
life.
That life solemnly sworn to solidified places of
light--whose need of need, aggrieves not its
reversion to light, but shines upon flesh's folding.
As every burden reaches for its reason, reaching
what's unburdened by virtue that reach.
As Virgil guided Dante through the dark wood,
he was once guided to offer guidance, the
unbreakable watchfulness of crossing paths.
Of guides, there are many--untold many, that the
idea of emptiness, at any given moment is merely
an interchangeability from fullness...ebulliently so.
The senses shall be as misappropriated goods
in an open air market--coveted by a Singularity
that shall bore them away.
MysticRiddleton Oct 2017
To see reality
But beyond the scope
With a pair of daydreamers
Focused within the span
Below or within the fantasy
That frightens or dictates
The odds of misery.

To perceive a blurry vision
Yet a clear imagination
Of what is yet to be seen
Or what is to ever commence
Never aware of what to believe
For the mischief of every storyteller
Uninvited yet entertained
Delivers free delirium.

In a thoroughgoing reform
Of every ongoing mend
Hoping to resurrect
The peaceful beginnings
And end every desolation.

To roll the orbs of fortune-tellers
As if to find any solution
But to end up feeling emptiness
That invades the mighty borough
So decides to fill with darkness
Such pair of daydreamers
And to let the warmth
Of frozen moments
Become a sudden comfort
So swiftly passing by.
This poem is about a moment shared to me by a special friend who happens to suffer from anxiety. This is posted so that people will be aware of how it feels to be anxious and corrupted by thoughts whilst being anxious.
nathansolmeo Apr 2018
I stepped out from my tent into the night.
We had set up camp early, unusually so, but understandable. Getting for this solitary camping site was exhausting enough. I could tell that it was just half an hour after full dusk, but they were all sounding asleep. From across the campfire, I could see Trisha’s tent with its owner perhaps snoring a little too loud. Beside mine Daniele and Jomer’s tent. I’d never dare go there after I decided to try and pull off some prank at an ill time. Nor would I speak of its details. The others like, like Nicole and Ivan were also out.

I wore my hood and went off into the woods.

Despite my nyctophobic tendencies, I continued thoroughgoing in the woods, grasping transcendent perception of solitude. I would cherish the sound of the rustling leaves, the occasional sound of gale, and the melody of silence, however, after some time; I could not shake the feeling that I was being eyeballed. I took a quick look around the darkness, and saw nothing but the void of nature. I shrugged it off.

I reached the cliff side that still contained my other sleeping bag I left two or so hours ago.

When I lied down, I felt a pang of tranquility that seemed to resonate around my surroundings. Soon, the stars started lighting up. While waiting for coruscation's of light, I heard a voice.
“I also wish it were always like this”.
Feminine, soft, no doubt it was Trisha. The loneliness subsided, I felt dread, but yet I could sense bliss in her company.
“What brings you here? I’d hazard a guess that you shadowed me all throughout” I said apathetically.

I see no botheration in that, besides, we have similar interests yet also differences,” she replied, putting down a sleeping bag I just now observed. More of the white dots appear. I can almost see a streak of light lining the shaded sky, yet my energy reserves are draining.

Waking up at midnight, or so says my phone, was a godsend. The entirety of the galaxy has showed its entire grandiose splendor. No doubt the camp would be delighted if they were awake, but I wouldn’t want to take need for any of them, Even Trisha, who was still napping. I decided to give her a couple of shoves to try and wake her up, heavens know why. No success.

Now I’ve always wondered why the middle portion of the Milky Way looked like ominous cloud. I deduced like an idiot that it was sort cloud or some sort. Though it was unlikely. Despite the number of stars, I could spot some common constellations, like the Big Dipper. I knew where they were, pinpoint, The cluster of stars seemed to shine as bright as the moon, if ever it was here tonight.

A yawn was heard, a couple inches to my right. A response at last. When she came to her senses, I’d seen a side of her that nobody would expect to see. Ordinarily a being like me, she went into a panic berating me for not waking her up. And while I tried to convince her that I attempted to, it was a failure. It was easy to convince her to look up, though.

We discussed about the stars, my slight dislike for socialization notwithstanding. I’ve just now seen a part of her that was not the quiet, shy, yet strong girl she was. She is as eager as I am inside to my greatest surprise. Nebulas, main sequence stars, novae and what not, all these we debated and argued solemnly in the midst of the dark light that is our galaxy. I, for little reason other than none at all, asked her about the joke I’d done to her just half a day ago. Although she didn’t want me to discuss what I shouldn’t, we reconciled quickly.

Only now have I realized that there is a part of me that is satisfied by such knowledgeable talk, I knew for sure that I was the only person in my little bubble to be enticed by interesting topics, but with the advent of this hour, now it is not the case. Noticing my brighter aura. I decided to start stranger things, ones not for the eyes and ears for people like us, and again, I was fathoming her apparent knowledge and interest in it.

People are interesting, after all. Perhaps I should find more of these strange folk.
Haint no rhyme nor reason
why writing a poem such an arduous chore
twenty two days afore
winter solstice twenty twenty more
or less three weeks from tomorrow
November thirtieth, I implore
the god/goddess of poetry,
perhaps found within Bangalore
highlighted by the 'Green Door'
guarded by the key don Eeyore
also known as Al Gore
him of Earth in the Balance fame
who by George got ambushed unsure
if he chad chance to claim victory tour
when former candidate did score
less electoral college votes
nevertheless in my mind before
thoroughgoing count did ignore
discarded ballots scattered
all across the floor
which outcome incurred Iraq war
insinuating weapons of mass destruction
the gung ** forty third president forswore
existed but quite a few
respectable Republicans did abhor
pinning such ambiguous lore
upon head of recalcitrant Saddam Hussein
bombed back to stone age
think lavishing primitive home decor
no imprecation heaped and hurled
upon United States military, nor
****, who nobody did adore
asking politely "por favor
can I pretty please take detour
to Galapagos Islands of Ecuador
made famous courtesy Charles Darwin
still popular best selling author
at garden variety generic bookstore
which borders on ridiculous for sure
yet inane rhyme tore
thru my noggin after writer's block
yours truly did deplore
he would spend countless hours in vain
every burst of creativity I did explore
found me smack dab against
figurative cul de sac and bonjour
to you too three score
orbitz after me late papa did bore
mama, she passed away
fifteen years before.

— The End —