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Prabhu Iyer Dec 2014
Surrealist Cut-up

            them of drooping
perspective        them blue water lilies,
    branches      boughs,    the blue      wavering
illuminated that window  is causing These the stars
                      in moonlight, to shiver;   late in
a ripple,     then, blooming
The clouds, sky,    tither.

Figurative-Literal**

These the stars then, blooming
late in the blue sky,
a ripple is causing them to shiver;
The clouds, perspective
branches of drooping boughs,
that window them
blue water lilies, illuminated
in moonlight, wavering tither.
Monet Water lilies 1916: https://artsy.net/artwork/claude-monet-blue-water-lilies
kt Aug 2014
Twinkle twinkle
Star above
Your star shined so brightly
beyond and above

Twinkle twinkle
Star above
I've never seen such glitter
with such a tither.

With such great beauty
above this beauty

One day your here
The next your there.

Twinkle twinkle
You sneeky star
I seen you move!
I seen you move!
With such great speed!
l seen you move!

Awe you where just a satalite?
Or maybe
just a delight!

Thanks for your twinkles!
Thanks for your lights!
Twinkles where great!
Twinkles where nice!
kt
M Clement May 2013
Mixy-Twixy
Atom-Smasher
Take my brain
I hope it's matter
Break away from all the things we said we'd be
Internally

False pretense
On happenstance
All my socks have holes
Breaking molds
Of wither and tither
I keep your family on standby
Hand-holding lullaby

There was a cake on my doorstep
And a front porch on my brain stem
Again and again
And Asian
And never have I ever
Played a game with this many fingers

Following muffin-tops to your local coffee cart
There's a joke there

Breaking, breaking
Silence retaking
I haven't heard from you in a fortnight
Mind's eye
Zip-tie
Bedroom follies

I hope you get better
As I write letter by letter
And hope that you're not mad
Sad, enraged, but glad
****-mad and tired
Fired the liar
Who broke the back of the cat next door
Heart attack on front porches
Cause distress and sores
On the back of the man
Who did nothing  but hoard
For more and more and more

God be with us, I do pray
But Mary take my prayers away
Make them better, I ask, I say
And send them to who needs them most
Today
Eryck May 2018
When I was younger:
   I shuffled along,
to no urgent song,
didn't march through my day strong. When young and strong are the best time for planned  convictions.
There's no acting lazy, or slowing down to the crazy, unless you want to live ungracefully in this hard unforgiving world.
When I was younger:
   I lacked logic cause I didn't make clear my premise,
like a man with no plan, a sap with no map.  I wandered tither and yonder like a ghoal  without a goal, a ghost least of most,  no future to ponder.
When I was younger:
   I bogged down in metaphorical feces cause I didn't watch where I was wading, forsaking and debating, planning is for suckers, futures are for chuckers.
When I was younger:
   I did nil and stood still while the city raced around me, progress to astound thee, forgetting the earth constantly rotates 260 miles an hour- waiting for no one.
When I was younger:
   Like the Dodo bird I forgot to grow wings, was eatin by rats and things, became extinct and unlinked to a place run on business, consumerism and cash. On the rocks I was dashed.
When I was younger:
I became he who loses, with a broken compass and excuses, laying laggardly leaderless, with the snoozing and the boozing, and sold my initiative for a bag of grass.
That's when I was younger:
   I'm older than that now.  But I still remember. It's  hard being younger!!
On her knee sat a pallet of paints, a blank canvas and the trees, slowly her eyes closed into the emerald depths,

Once not long ago, the splendour of winters nature witch was in silent slumber on crisp meadows, gone are blood berries of Holly’s frozen clusters, I see hedges spiked and glossy leaves,
Awake I am moving past the trees, nowever will I wonder in glades of silver and green, I am a gentle jewel entwined within trees

High pitch calls of the little owls are peeking, the woods be alive
Little Robin Ruby Red breast is showing a deep chest, serenading me,
A badger munching and crunching yonder I see,
Tiny oak trees sprouting upward, a little gift from the squirrel’s scurrying year

High above, a Raven black ink to my eyes.
A jet feather is floating free, a gift from my beloved woods in mind
Feeling the leaves dancing among big oaks trees, maples, beech and twigs are spiraling down enchanting on me,
Whispering are the leaves that move, now dark, now light

In the morn Wildwood tear drops of sliver hung on clever leaves, fairies are laughing hither tither and yon, sun catching their smiles in glitter,
Golden rays bow to the dancers in the green glens and groves
Apple and pear trees laden with blossom perfume the air,
Sweet grass is tickling my legs, and lady bird red wing sings in the passing warm breeze, gazing upon Blue bell carpets just for me

Into nights spell

A voice wind runs through my hair, come and dance by the edge of the sea,  I will guild you on a moon beam a bride to be, cooling the passion you feel, Beech nut husks crunch at my feet, and acorns marbles are laughing at me

Wildwood possessed dew drop lips, majestic of night in the glades of silver green,
Summer’s evening fire warming the passion you feel, dressed in cotton, wire and silks purple be,  I am who you invoke and have always been, come to the edge of the Wildwood's near the sea to dance come be thee

── Gently her eyes fluttered open, lifting her brush, smiling she began her self-portrait among the trees.


© Arnay Rumens / A Sol Poet  T20.2014
Arjun Tyagi Dec 2013
Innumerable aeons ago,
in the unformed valleys,
on the barren land,
two beings were born.
  From the roots of the elm,
and through the earth,
raised as man and woman,
with flesh were they adorned.

Oh what a sight it was,
the first breath of life,
the start of two worlds,
both so deftly intertwined.
  And once formed,
they glanced at each other.
It was beauty infinite,
to their new-formed minds

The man being braver,
took the first step.
Unaccustomed to feet,
he swayed and staggered.
  The woman being gentle,
took the second step.
Reached tentatively to him,
and fell upon the heather.

Both lay upon the grass,
and contemplated the next move.
But of this they were sure,
one they must be from two.
  He stood up weakly again,
pulled her to her feet.
Thus they stood as one,
and trode upon the dew.

Unknown to them,
was a vast unexplored land
to which they hitherto went
walking together always.
  They did not stop,
fearing the giant expanse.
Dark as otherworldly nights,
bright as unseen summer days.

Treading together
they discovered wonders.
About the living land
and more about the other.
  The woman saw more,
as she was observant.
The man learned skills,
for he was stronger.

After many rises and falls,
of the great warm disk,
They arrived at a great cave
near the shores of the blue serpent.
  It welcomed them
with the warmth of endurance.
With sanctuary and a haven,
where they finally laid.

Soon the giant expanse,
parted and poured water.
Sooner, the warm disk,
became even warmer.
  Then trees bared themselves,
and the earth withered.
The breath of the air,
would cause them to shiver.

And through the seasons,
she observed and he learned;
all that they could,
of their serene world.
  He would rise with the sun,
bring berries and fruits.
She would feed them,
and thus life did unfurl.

Now they had all they wanted,
comfort, safety and a home.
As human tendencies go,
they moved to each other.
  He would often see her,
singing to the air.
She would often see him,
in their heavenly slumber together.

Here was a woman,
who could tame beasts.
Here was a woman,
who raised bounty from the earth.
  She would sing and dance,
and the flowers would bloom.
She would sing in the cave,
warming heart and hearth.

Wherever she went,
life would follow.
If there was none,
she would be a new mother.
  Life into trees,
life into bones.
Life she would pour,
whenever she would sing.

And before he knew it,
he could not breathe.
Without her voice,
he became weak.
  And so it went without doubt,
she was the one he wanted.
Much more than his life,
his mate, his Eve.

Ten moons later,
while sitting under a tree.
Said he to her,
his heart with her heals.
  Through emptiness, loneliness,
and through hurt and pain.
Through heat, through cold,
through fall, through rain.

Her voice pierces all,
all gloom and despair.
It sets this man free,
from his flesh-bound lair.
  She brings bounty,
of the earth to their dwelling.
Fruits, nuts and flowers,
oh, so sweet smelling.

Her words are commands,
to beasts and birds alike.
This man before her,
his heart too, she did strike.
  He has waited,
watched, wondered and awed.
The ethereal voice she possesses,
fire from a dragon's maw.

He has watched her,
be one with nature.
He has seen her,
walking hither and tither.
  Her hair shimmers,
in the moon like a blaze.
Cascading falls of black,
his eyes stay fazed.
  She could not be Earthly,
of this he was sure.
Made for a higher meaning,
by her, he was to be allured.
  This was intended,
to flourish and to live
He loved her so, the tamer of beasts,
nothing could take her away from him.

Stay still, like a stone, he said
so this man can caress you.
Let him come closer,
'tis time for what is due.
  And as their lips met,
the withered fall transformed.
Spring came forth,
all dead life morphed.

Unable to keep silent,
God himself came forth.
Planted an immortal orchard,
of Apples before the two betrothed.
  Said he to her then,
we must never go unto the garden.
Defiant, the bearer of life, the woman said,
unwise it is to ignore the fruits laden.

So she passed, having said that
while he was left with his cries.
For what good are pleas and somber begging
to deaf ears and blind eyes?
  And as her toes bore her weight,
she plucked the ripest of the fruit.
Whilst the man's unheard shouts,
all they were to her were moot.

And before his eyes,
his love withered and died.
Disobedience with Deathly price,
the Apple from her fist he pried.
  He savored the juice it spilled,
ecstatic revelry of immediate sorrow.
How could he have walked alone,
in now an unwanted tomorrow.

Thus it came to pass,
that Magna Mater and Pater ceased.
Parents to Kingdoms to come,
the original Sinners before their children-to-be.
  As I sit here and wonder,
of the lovely sin, ancient and arcane.
God pardon me tonight,
For my Eve, I would have done the same..
PoserPersona Feb 2019
How sad the trees be
when winter comes as fall leaves
and the flowers die

What consolation
is Venus’s forsaken
yielding spring to rise?

For once staring death,
summer fastens by a breath
and the flowers die

Yet made to know doom,
trees tither the chance to bloom
yielding spring to rise
Geno Cattouse Oct 2013
It's a sad thing to see a mind wicker out.Have you ever had the distinct timing to sit and watch one lose their minds. Really weigh anchor and drift.? I have. On two occasions.
My, as an observer of the human condition,it is moth to flame-like.

Have you ever seen a helium balloon gently sailing to points unknown ?.
Hither and tither The word discombobulated seems worthy.Every gentle gust is it's master.
Or one party ornament broke loose from the park-party to snare and jitter as the string bickers with the  needy high tension wire.

THEN THERE IS THE OTHER.
A MOTHER AND CHILD DISUNION.  As she sits staring at the small gleaming casket well placed for all to see. Below the alter. I sit five rows back and I watch her falter.
God is watching they say and no sparrow shall fall they say.

But sure as night follows day I can hear her scream. A psychic ricochet soundless. WHY ?.

And later at the green acres.
manicured to perfection.
a six by hole dug with practiced precision. It waits. for the
slow procession.

the last flower tossed in. The thump of the first shovel of dirt.
And ashes  to ashes. She walks away.
seems to saunter under ease of libation. Oh no.
A minds liberation.Ship leaving port.
Slowly navigates to deep and vast.

Gentle insanity at last. Maybe tearing later.
One piece missing from the puzzle forever.
Not an edge piece so as not to be noted easily.

Gone nonetheless.
Flip the switch to babies room. close the door.
Lights out.
Sorry for the darkness. It knocks unannounced. I open the door.
Sophia Apr 2016
Sometimes,
late at night,
or early in the afternoon,

Sometimes in the morning
and sometimes during noon,

I get this itch on the grooves of my palm.

Then inner turmoil becomes instant calm,

Only if I fit a pen between my thumb,
and index finger,

And then that itch will move and tither,
and far away from my hand it'll slither

It'll work its' sneaky way inside my brain,
And halt to stop along the way,

To push my feelings, and my pain,
my insecurities, my fears, all drained,

and pulsing out through that very pen,
the itch made me hold once again.

And I'll bleed, and bleed and bleed,
until there's no more use for ink

And the minute that the ink runs out,
the itch disappears; without a sound!

When will it be back? Who knows?
Meanwhile, my breath returns,

The itch now scratched and my mind relieved,
My whole life was scribbled on a sheet.

And through that sheet my feelings sprout,
until that itch comes back around.
I wonder if you are going to whisper the same thing until it’s parts
Tither meaningless on the floor
Once the pieces are unspoken
They mean the most and
Once they are purged, the meaning becomes diluted
So be witty, clever and tease the playful words unspoken
Or my heart will be broken
Into pieces, down the same doorway
The silhouette of the significantly broken
Will be found
Faded
On the floor
Cooper H Sep 2015
Oh if I knew then
All That I claim as sin
How would I do a second time?
Would this try be fine?
Nay life is not a mere line
Of irreversibility
Yea life is but a river
Of a fluid givers love
That Steadily flows under
the songs of a Merry dove
As whitecaps wash and passive waves whither
So must all beings tither
to the coming peak
Of life's mysterious creek
And nearing the drop of life
With whitecaps, wind, and sanctity
I'll tell you now all that I know:
Though I know now
that knowing then
Was nearly preposterous, death screams dearly of life's relativity
Daniel Magner Feb 2015
A wicked wind carries a witch's spell
it's chill belying
the magma of hell
brought forth by incantations
drawing deep
from a dark magic well
The willow's sigh combines with the whisper
beckoning  me tither
to an alter made from black iron
crowned by scepters
on which two crows perch
the earth around me seizes and spurts
with dead hands erupting from
the earth
Daniel Magner 2015
There's a whole display
Of an infinite array
The tither and tather
Please don't wither and wather
You are you unique and true
Don't compare yourself like a fool
They say to own your shade
Represent and hold pride
But in pride do they anguish
Failing to distinguish
The few unique colors
The shadow and darks
May we befriend them in Stark
Let us taste and feel the contrast
Without leaving my eye palette too abrash
Own your shade
Be-Dazzled in contrast
Sneha shenoy Sep 2017
Their eyes moving hither & tither,
Accidentally enraptured on one another.

As soon as they met they fell in love❤,
Adding spice to life,just like clove.

Finally he confessed :
" Rose I love you" with a joyous cry,
She replied:
" My love, life without you is monotonous & dry"

He gifted red rosé *** to fair Rose,
Fair one affectionately cared for red,
They both came too close..
In her dreams she saw her love on death bed..

What happened? who did she see??
Did the plant die?
Or their relationship?
Or both?
But why did they leave her???

All started with restless eye,
Ending with an unexplained gudbye...
Prabhu Iyer Oct 2017
When the mist rose,
fragrant painting the horizon red,
radiant in the evening sun,
emerged of roses a bed;
And we walk on
        hand in hand
                   by a lotus pond
                           in some sapient
                                 distant land.
The chorus of the stars,
hymn
to a limitless vast,
the vistas
that we held in those palms;
Little taps nimble on the roof tiles
the noon-song of the after-rain
drip-dripping sky.
It   was   I    then, and -
you,        as         you       are        now.
Tither have        you       gone hiding?
Waiting at the edge of the platform,
last siren of the day,
dying into the night
rattling in the rails,
echoing in my soul;
Trudge
            now    long
to the aboveground
late bus, hedgewalking
past the cacti
in the garden next door;
flowered, thorn-bushes then
smirks
now the desert rose
crowned King
dew-frozen    of the hour dim
Prabhu Iyer Jan 2015
The air is wet in the moist tears of the sky
vacant, and full of the fragrances of the hill flowers

Lone bird flying tither, looking for shelter.

adorning her forehead dishevelled the clouds
Looking confused, Phantasm woman hair
the early crescent moon  looking lost,

Long travelled, when the soul longs for home,
there is none but the parnaked sky. Some warm clothes
familiar arms, a favourite soup. mirages a thirst.

When all is lost, there is hope. There is soul.
Wide earth, Call upon your vicars,
to learn your language and to be as you are,
to sing with the echoes and vanish with the shepherds.
I come here in homage, find me a home,

staring at the floating lamps dotting the dusk
distant hamlets in salsa with the stars.

Alight, for here, the bus stops.
Series inspired by the life of this remarkable hermit-woman:
http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-30796537

Will explore difficult questions of our modern lives; Deliberate use of disjointed Surrealist constructions, to convey the mood.
TJ Struska Mar 2020
Chill baby, it's the all acoustic set. Going home for the holidays.
A few laughs with Pops,
And never mind the drumsticks, her comes the *******.
Here comes weeping
In a Shiite village,
400 dead in Sadr City,
And pass me the yams.
Did you see that interception?
Here comes the 3rd and long.
         Here the sun falls away
In the twilight of winter.
I dream the Electro Light Fantastic. I'll see ghosts in
The mirror when I'm dreaming. None the wiser,
I saw it in fits and starts.
Better than waking on
New Year's morning in jail with the crazy lady 2 cells over yelling for a cigarette
Every twenty minutes
" Officer, can I have a cigarette?" I want to tell her
To shut up, Instead I ask
Her to get me one too.
And then I knew it's all come round.
Young and Stupid reporting for duty.
Not that it's my rag mag
Sad rag, nothing doing while
I try these new wings on for size. Its just the all acoustic set in a world of static.
Hazy cigarette voices
In trebelo. Though I threw
It out with the cookbook,
I have it all hanging on my sleeve. I thought it was all the rage. Later I found it was
Taxing on my soul.
This all acoustic set, away from the city lights and cyberspace. Left to one's devices, one sinks further into the page. What do you
Expect when candlelight
Falls across the flickering wall?

Two league below, a U Boat
Swims the Atlantic, Lost
In possibilities. Some mind
When I'm tongue tied like a lizard.
Kinda brings up Helsinki,
And she comes in all bells
And whistles. Me, I'm
All acoustic, something like a blank face, Low on cash
And overdrawn on character.
And the sun lights before
Columbus dragging up the rear. Man these ghosts
Linger in the hallway,
But it's better than crashing
The car into the statue
One Thanksgiving Eve.
The all acoustic set says
Death is a bore, Especially
After the ride in From France
I gave up meat some time ago, I gave up on you after
I got to the moon.
Well, it gets me out of the sun awhile. We'll get better when
The world catches up.

Sorry I changed the end around, but I thought it
Was the only out of Knoxville
Never mind The sage gravy,
I've got to tighten the lug nuts. A tither, but nothing on the rent.
And Hitchcock does the math,
While I corkscrew around the truth. While others weep
I dream of women laying in the sun. I guess it's better than ice cream in the rai n.
Who said pumpkin pie?
This poem is really the style I write. I hope it gets some exposure... TJ STRUSKA
Wordsmith May 2020
Comfort is nice but mundane bores
I must explore the wonders of sea
My thoughts take wings, zest soars
I set sail on my journey with glee

A crushing wave, a sudden slip
Yanking my board from under my feet
Hither tither I scramble for a grip
Boy this feels, anything but sweet

Not what I thought - no easy play
Things just aren't going my way
I look for reason, reason flees
Reason tells me meaning you’ll see

Tired of evil, tired of this ploy
I loosen my grip, I free control
In this moment, I now enjoy
The ebb and flow of the larger whole

A storm revisits, I know the drill
I'm tossed again in life's caprice
I align my will with divine will
And now I sail the winds with ease
Are we playing the game or is the game playing us?

We can't always control what's infront of our eyes, but we can always control whats behind it. Surrender isn't about accepting defeat, but rather to recognise when to move forward and when to step back and let go. The only way to live with flow is to discard resistance and welcome coherence.

We surrender not to give up our power, but to regain our power.
zebra Jul 2019
haunted
I am an unanswerable mystery to myself

pain
griefs food

belief in uncertainty
is like a medicine that makes me ill
loving the danger of things
like a tender ******
or the superstitious atheist
or the oversexed who convert to Catholicism

in a tither of religiosity
I lift Mother Mary's dress for a taste

irreducibly splintered inside
I feel
religion is quiet like the dead
and im pulsing sin
passionate perverted and metaphysical
a lover of hard headed ******
and goo girls
whispering ***** things in my ear

oooow mercy of nakedness
she holds my **** like a gun
pulls the trigger
and i pop her
panting she bleeds out butter ****

got her good
that big hearted ******* *******
criminal

the Devil has his contemplatives
as does God
and Christians say **** that
This is an intertextual piece
partly based on Pico Iyer's
THE MAN WITHIN
Gigi Tiji Jan 2015
Fahrenheit of love
carry the dove
to and from
The Lord of peace
and gratitude and
be only what you need
in simplicity to be
as you are and
you exist because
you belong like a bubble of funk
in a soul jazz orchestra and it seems you are suspended with your surface dictated by the outward radiation of your innermost black hole diamond fire mirror sphere and the inward pressure of thousands of galaxies but you are infinitely effervescent, you bubbly buffoon, you take it easy there with your galactic monsoons, you hurricane gale force love storm! you can swirl an ocean into a whirlpool but let's have some fun lets have a lot and with our lovicanes we'll stir the *** till we see fit 'cause you know if you let it sit for too long the **** rises to the top so stir it up don't leave it up to luck you've got to jump into love and fall forever instead of tripping and falling like fickle birds of a feather so untie the tether and we'll go from hither to tither together and we'll make it better every time
Glenn Currier Apr 2017
When I find myself all in a tither
wondering and not knowing whether
I'll have enough time, energy or cash
you'll be by me anywhere in a flash.

All I have to do is think of you
focus on your wealth to get me through
you've got more than enough to get rid of
because your currency dear one is love.

"Currency," Copyright 2017 by Glenn Currier
Prabhu Iyer Aug 2019
late cab, where do you go
slicing through the silence
this damp hour?

it must be the night, for I'm
not worried-
though my phone's on

do you work late?

this is the worker's fate:
from father to son,
that we work to work ever harder ,
to break the tether
round our necks
invisible, but slavery -
when did it end?

it was the plantations then;
cabs and the keyboards now:
sugar grows on the brow
wet of the beaten man's sweat;

and oh we all want to rise,
far above from this shanty town
tither on that hill past the neon sea

so we dream, endlessly:
the reel
broken by the sound of rain
dripping on the roof

there are shadows that talk
very leaf is a witness
Emma Sims Sep 2020
Let me be
the river sea that flows up mountains
Hills and bees
Past the boughs and hanging trees
Of oak and elm of ages old
Once adorned by kings in gold
Let me be
the water flow
That carries fish and boats in tow
Past their homes and to and fro
Till timbers shake and gills do wither
Mothers hearts a’tither, dither
Let me be the rolling wave
That crashes, crushes, spins and saves
Let me be free and fluid
Let me be me
M ona Jul 2019
Thousands and thousands were there,
arranged one after another.
All went well with their positions,
but one felt clumsy what made it try to come out from there.
It hanged,
but feared,
if it breaks apart?
With its dream ,it too will demise
like one dreamer whose dream unfortunately perish.
It wanted to fly hither and tither
like a free bird who leaps at the yonder.
#bebrave #dream
Penne Jun 2021
The sound of the skeleton flower's petal was heard.
Time to go home.
Dripping from the roof is the moisture for the family and animals for 1 whole day.

The sheep filed through the cottonwood gate.
The aardvarks came next, tiptoeing on the birds' isle and then proceed to float on the eye of the lake.

Hot crackling popped from the bird seeds and savaged corn cobs.
All trees and webs lost their sway to give breath to the farmer's daughter.

The miracle of the picturesque was all stolen by her.

The hair is unmatched with nature's colors.
Her rough, sticky, lavender gray curls.
Love is the black ants gathering for the flan, leaf-shaped.
She dips the lark in a pool of beet juice.
Glazed the firewood with snaps of her belting notes and wiped with trots of chameleon.
And the whole world glowed.

One time, the farm girl had too much fun  
But does not know what day it is Neither the sun blinks
So hey, why not start expanding this farm?
Instead of an animal kingdom, a planetarium is forged.

He whispered, "I'm soft as a cloud."
He caressed, "I can give you everything."
He slashed, "I promise."
She knew. But, it was her ambition to have no ambitions.

The baby sheep were sleeping next door.
They were crying.
They were always crying.
Sometimes she wished they had less rights.
But the cries meant something else.

"Baby, why do you keep dying? Just walk already. I wish you were already 25 so you can feel alone."
Sundials were Sunday oranges to drink
Melting, melting, melting it until confessions became concessions.

Obsessed on breaking a patch of grass to look at her reflection. That is her only way to have a reflection.
Comb the grass up if she felt hazy.
Comb the grass down if she has the urge to joust.
Comb the grass everywhere to just forget every minute.

The figs were sagging and darkening. Yet, it was no tither season.

She wondered, "Is there even a  mosquito that likes me? I always ride a horse soaked in paint and has eyes of a distant phone light."

One night, she boiled the fur and then baked some cake.
It was the time to brave the punch.
Nobody was going to take away her hunch!
She heard a poke and an acne groan.
No, to eden! To eden! To eden!
When she opened the main door, the scent of ice shaved her mien.

"This will just make me look hideous,"she thought.

"I'm not a cycle!"

She closed the door. Now, she was afraid to leave and to stay.

Rather mourn as a ringtone and lie as a jester.

No one believed her.
Just because she did not told the story well.
Oh Life
Our dreams are like little moths
Taken over by our innocent wishes
With pain, pleasure and hearths
Aspire for life with all sweet dishes

What is life just an effortless effort
The end of the tither remains unknown
A pure surprise, deception and flirt
What it carries can never ever be shown

Oh life you killed me in sheer disgust
I could not reconcile with thy fraility
A sweet mixture of pure love and lust
A sham hesitation ,a quivering stability

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2018 Golden Glow
Ken Pepiton Jan 2022
The Bible holds the definition of the word of Jah
Clear, with no obfussy experience, Word,
the slang cool a decade or two ago, word
was a repeat expulsion of agreement,
in a certain holy ritual spirits call, say
Amen, word, and fall
at the feet of a Gamaliel, be taught by the learned
Authorized Version
It is said be
Here, a little and
there, a little
word from god, go.

The Bible fragments -minus lacunae - missing bits
using no breathing commas, so we know bits,
- but not knowing every thing about anything,
- is no reason not to share the map,
- to there, and back.\ Mere Word
we might say it defines the Word of God,
as being
a  little here, there, everywhere,
whispering
still small voice, here,
am I, listen, murmur, spirit, valued only in spirit,
measured only in spirit,
spoken only in spirit to the hearer, who dares
tell the professional confirmer of hell being so real,
to blow off
that 10% off the top, is but a taste,
of the indulgence giving fifty years in service buys,

to a truth leaver, finder, prove me now, did,
did prove that is not true, that tither magic
used on Christian TV, the giving,
ah,
the widow's mites and mine, we are the salt,
in the soup we offer god's truth, to witness,
crackle thorns in fire,
laughing of fools, found at the edge,
wondering
why they bet there is no god, ah, yes,

I recall, because, if there was a god,
there was a heaven where dead babies go.
And, that being so,
there was a hell for theives and liars, entire sets,
sorted there,
concise, those enter not, no thought, with hooks to
******
the rumproast or prime rib before the seething's done,

indeed, sons of eli, the movie about your book is bullshat.
That a fact?
Fact is, as this story itself is pickin' up steam, we gotta climb

up from the swamp reeds and tamarcks ******* salt
from deep roots, to settle as dust,
on distant ice in need of pressure, osmosis us, squeeze,

a reasoned measure, a certain limit passes, time has points

remarked each season by passers by
awe
expressed at thinking, we all thought this each time
one reads as an act of faith, realized, used, a what ifery,

bet, if I write this, another will read and feel precious,
as any smooth stone in dappled winter shade,
glossed, as the learned say, to be noticed,
as not anything, only words, dancing.
While thinking of Jordan Peterson's right eye tear, his poor left brain being pricked at by pharisees who reeeely really know why hell remains, after the forgiveness of those who knew not what they did. Ranted, the ***,
Emmanuel S Aporu Sep 2021
If ever you are to fall
I will be tither to hold you
If  ever at dawn you call
I'll rise to you like the sunbathed dew
Close your eyes then, and imagine this
A life of love and unending bliss!!
Sk Abdul Aziz Jul 2020
I can feel the smell of fresh earth in the air
Cool breeze
Swaying trees
An assortment of dark clouds in the sky
Lightning and thunder
There's a storm coming
And then there's the storm of feelings brewing inside my head as I sip my cup of tea
The first drop of rain kisses the earth
It starts with a little pitter patter
And then there's just an absolute downpour of emotions
It's like the sky is crying it's heart out
And the sound is like some symphony
And every now and then it reaches a crescendo and then calms down again
The birds are flying hither tither
Some take shelter in my window ledge and sill
Some cars and motorcycles stop in their tracks
People on the road taking their umbrellas out
Those without one scampering for cover
Some drenching their hearts out in the rain
As it starts to flood a bit some kids make paperboats and set them out on the rainwater sea..
As I watched these scenes from my window I couldn't help but think of my childhood days
Days when I used to feel more and think less
But then I guess with age you grow wiser or maybe dumber or a bit timid..i don't know..
As a kid the rains for me was all about having a good time
Now it's all about watching and reminiscing the childhood days
Aditya Roy Feb 2020
Tither there, where day rises like a mountain
Hither here, comes a tear from the eye of the fallen sparrow
The arms of the clouds envelope the sphere as hair do
So sad and so beautiful
If his hair were wires
Then they'd be most beautiful and black
When Earth will forget us
And we start neglecting mother Earth
Like lovers who have impediments of the albatross
Yet the freedom of birds lost in flight never making it out of the dead sea
So sad yet so beautiful
Such is the curse of looming love
That infects my foliage like a gentle blight
My Lydian weaver, feeding
I'm waiting for your divine providence, my lover
Aditya Roy Apr 2020
Crystal eyebeams showered down
The mountaintops sailed and gleam
Above the clouds

The years passed like grains of sand
The ruin of ancient lands turned to dust
The streets of paradise are now past

I hold a bit of heaven in my palm of wildflowers
When I unclench my fist, the heavens just fade away
They shall run helter skelter, hither tither

Tied to a jet black cliff
A bird fashions on my scars
As my next ship passes

Tied under the Gates of Eden
The Gods have no place for us
Only where the vulture circles is a home
The story of Prometheus, chained to a rock and a vulture feeds on his liver everyday. The Gods revive his organs after the bird has eaten.

— The End —