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Xallan Feb 15
My trust is as delicate as tissue paper and as rare as a blood moon
And though I hesitate to admit that you have
The uncanny ability
To make my intestines quiver like a basilisk emerging from centuries of
Dreams into a dull reality where you are the only treasure
And though you have the disturbing power
To slow down my genius so greatly I am deceived into the belief
That coffee is now the only remedy to quicken my mind

So instead of numerals and reasoning
I think along the lines of your face in a quaint cafe
Designed to calm my sinister doubts
And though you have the incredible aptness
To warm my frozen heart just enough
To feel the tremors of time that pulse
In a unique frequency only I can recognize

And though I think you saw it all along
I refuse to surrender
As if pain is something I could prevent by holding joy at arms length
But in all honesty I really do believe we're in the same happy boat doomed to capsize on some invisible glacier
And uncompleted sorrows still ravage my imagination
within the red is life unwoven
an unknown that rests undefined
before it knows it’s end
it leaves traces of its redundance in the shape of senseless tremors
and restless quivers
that leave me paralysed in time

the blood curse 
the ritual of unborn futures  
it leaves me thinking  of
slashing the bonds of my abdomen
for the bittersweet release
of this cascading trauma
will leave me unmade
and free from bloodfilled womanhood
K Lupus Sep 5
Whenever the dark curtain of my eyes
fails to serve me right

or whenever the numbness
felt from rubbing my hands
against my lap no longer
ease the tremors

I lose myself
in thought

how much more
must I endure

how many more times
must they
steal the minuscule grit
I had pondered

- the person that will
always be
my breather
I guess I kinda liked the way how you became my breather
ryn Feb 2015
Blue clouds gaze the wrapped sun
frozen kisses in my blood
travelling a thousand miles
to meet up with you.

There is none else walking
down this path where memories
wake up and dance
inside my armored heart.

I peeled off each kisses embrace
out of my parched lips.
I shook off the tree,
where your scent had blossomed.

Every step down this scarcely trodden path saw...
Each peel fall with helpless, damsel-like grace.
Brown leaves shone amber touched by fingers of the sun
Invasion of warmth through my greyed bony carapace.

Gentle tremors reverberate within with subtle anguish.
Sweet scented portal that took me back,
To the illusion of time where we once were...
In drunken stupor...laying under a star strewn canvas of black.

Senses that spoke of a great fantastical tale.
You are still here... In this cloying void with no one around...
Only that scent...your scent tugging on my core
Invisible tendrils berthing my feet back on ground.

Alone and wanting don't want to be anymore.
I want to feast my lungs on your skin once more.
I want to vibrate under your touch again,
In anguished anticipation and sweet pain.

I hurl your name to the echoing wind,
Blowing ferociously over the closed passage.
Only to find that I'm but elongating
the distance between our fading wishful stars.

Fading far only to find that I'm lost yet again,
Still harvesting a basket full of ripened hope.
Traversing planes with warped, slanted doorways,
Frantically seeking purchase on knobs with fevered gropes.

Heavy layered breaths inhaled too shallow...
Tracing missteps to decipher what it all meant.
When all is moot...weary, weathered and futile,
Forever I'll be bathing in the familiarity of your soothing, nectarous scent...

Dajena M
My first collab with the incredible Dajena M. She had deleted her account and the collaborative pieces she had posted went away as well. But... I found them!!! Yay!

I'm so glad we had the chance to collaborate on such an amazing piece together.
Kristo Frost Mar 2013
Parallel tremors follow your heavy footsteps through the moss that carpets a maze of tired oak. Solemn warnings calcify soft thoughts and point you at the coal on the horizon. Its splinterglow peeks hot squints through the arboreal tangle. Topaz streams convene and braid themselves around your spine. The stones in the riverbed grow smoother and each becomes a grain of sand. You let the sand console your roots as you curl your toes and fall asleep.
Jeff Stier Jul 2016
My avid gaze
spoke to the rosary
of your flesh

My heartsick tremors
marked me as a wanted man
and burned the villages
of my ancestors

I was a refugee
from time
a friend to no man

My tears washed the blood
from my hands
my eyes withered
the tender bud

So when did I read poetry
on your lips?

Did your mountains fracture
and disintegrate into
sparkling shards
as mine did?

Was the moon an egg
in your basket
as it was in mine?

Little do we know
of the other
when first we clasp hands
and agree

In time
and with luck
we learn.
I tried to write a poem in the style of Pablo Neruda.
see, atlas nearly dropped the world at the first sign of tremors
and gaia would've blown her top with wrath
and it nearly toppled sisyphus' boulder til it crushed him
but the 'nearly' doesn't matter 'cause the world's still in his grasp

and if paris picked selene, we might've had a heart-shaped moon
but we got the trojan shitshow, millions died
and we nearly went extinct just 'cause some ******* greek was *****
but the 'nearly' doesn't matter since we just about survived

if i cared more about science, i'd be making tons of money
but i'm an arts kid who'll likely die on the street
and endure two stints in rehab for ******* just like my dad did
but if i pull my **** together, i might just afford to eat
eso sí que es
Not Lauren Mar 2015
word of your alleged affiliations reached me weeks after it was all said and done; she was now queen of your world and I became a mild sore in your side like I feared I would

I don't know why I'm surprised. I never amounted to much anyway. I often let my feet burn in the running bath water just to feel something besides a building wall of anxiety in my chest.

I often dreamt about you. also about her - that walking prayer with a Devil's torch. I could've handled my tears if it weren't for the coffee shop you two were admiring in my dreams. do you remember my favorite place?

a nightmare is a dream until it becomes your reality. sometimes when I wake in a cold sweat complete with tremors, the breeze still smells of expresso and pastry
writing prompt: choose a page of the book nearest to you. take the first sentence, and the last, and then fill the spaces in between.
Knit Personality Sep 2015
My love's a grim disease that has no cure.
It freezes me and burns me up in fever.
It pains me with a pain I can't endure.
It gaunts my cheeks and grays my whole demeanor.
It leads me through dark dreams of fear and torment.
It wakes me up with tremors and in fits.
It ceases never, sleeps not, nor lies dormant:
It's with me ever, crumble-ing my wits.
It saps my strength, my will to persevere.
It's pointless hoping I will ever mend.
It's best that I'm without you, for it's clear
That you would only hasten my sad end.
Your presence wouldn't fight my ill or tame it.
No, having you around would just inflame it.
jane taylor Apr 2016
The chill in the frigid night air
casts tremors of lingering shadows
upon an ancient windowsill
where a liquescent candle’s glow dims.

Peering into shattered mirrors’
silver hued jagged edges
that no longer reflect counterfeit images
a nascent paradigm unfurls in the wind.

Terrifying diminutive steps are taken
in directions au courant
enabled by years of refinement
in torrid near incessant fires.

An excrescence of wisdom
has broken the weathered mold
allowing a senescent wisdom
to shimmer a phosphorescent glow.

The venerable map leading
to this transcendent destination
is not read but perceived
through intuition’s faint whisperings.

©2015 janetaylor
address to soundcloud version
patty m May 2014
Two Moons
through an onion skin,
gulls ride out approaching storm;
I embrace the corner of my bedroom.
A brief inward look tumbles from the bed,
my heart rises.
                Ice and sun, reversible stars, the driving pistons

behind this bleeding vision

My thoughts a scarf tail whipping wind
descend into darkness

I search for landmarks in unfamiliar territory
clinging to the floor until a cold draft finds me.

Voiceless, hunched, in the corner,
I'm shaken by seismic tremors.
Dark as a crow, I wait in despair for something to enter,
a pattern of deeply etched lines, stars that won't burn out,
a shadowy presence of something fearful.

Flames crack like small bones,
springs fly from clockwork mechanisms,
all the disparate forces spin in ghostly dance.

Eerie symmetry conspires to do me in,

Hope and Reason stretch out  their hands

                                                  too late.

Darkness swallows me.
Marla Nov 2018
My love runs sweet
For someone as dear
As the young lass
Who doth make my
Lip quiver.
These knees of mine
Experience tremors
No clergyman could contain.
A holy book has yet to find
The means by which I can
Be subdued.
She is my religion.
Her body: my church.
Her mind: my spirit.
Her love: my grace.
Un poem pour ma femme.
Thepillar Sep 2018
Just a single thought of you shakes my very being.
Sending tremors straight down to my core.
This feeling pulsing and echoing throughout my veins.
Straight to my lungs, making it so hard to breathe.
Your laugh, has me trembling, reminiscent of a choir.
Your personality, kindhearted, sweet, and comical.
Your accent, melting me like ice cream on a hot summer day.

Just a single thought of you shakes my very being.
Sending tremors straight down to my core.
This feeling pulsing and echoing throughout my veins.
Straight to my heart, pumping fast as if on caffeine.
Your presence, calming, laid-back, relatable.
Your demanour, silly, upbeat, adorable.
Your beauty, an unparalleled charm in this world of billions.

Just a single thought of you shakes my very being.
Sending tremors straight down to my core.
This feeling pulsing and echoing throughout my veins.
Straight to my stomach, excited and terrified, unresting as it disharmonizes with the rest of my organs.
Your willpower, to endure through hardships life scathes you with.
Your passion, able to pursue what you wish, and with no regrets.
Your talent, unique and detailed, parallel to your drawings.

Just a single thought of you shakes my very being.
Sending tremors straight down to my core.
This feeling pulsing and echoing throughout my veins.
Straight to my legs, fluttering and weak just imagining you speak.
I know you don't like compliments, but it's hard to hide the truth.
I could banter, and talk for decades as long as it's with you
I could wait forever, as long as it's for you.

Just a single thought of you.
Makes me feel the way I do.
Carter Ginter Sep 2014
Rock and mortar coat the halls
joining the dust upon the walls
Broken frames and shattered glass
A storm had come, destruction lasts
But beauty holds to the eyes that see
that sometimes endings set you free
A crack now cavernous
its depths threaten ravenously
Shudders, no tremors
Feel the violence
the world around you
succumbs to silence
...and then it speaks.
For once it all makes sense:
The pain and struggle have finally left
And you see it once, maybe twice
But it's there.
In her eyes you realize
You truly care.
I guess love turns me into a fruit.
And apparently even my happy poems possess eerie characteristics.
Edward Coles Feb 2017
The distant park
Was a graveyard of dead stars.
Each streetlight a system of worlds,
So many lives between each mote of light,
Indistinguishable in their unique love,
Bespoke hate, and the drama of the modern age.

Drunk laughter behind transparent
Double doors. Another hotel balcony,
Another cloud behind the canopy
Of marijuana eyes
To unsettle me from the crowd.

She points out, when you look closely
You can see the disorder
Amongst all constellations
Of life and love and litter;
Of discarded Coke cans
And temporary highs.

She says this is not a scene
To imbue the ****** of a present mind,
More to baulk at the incompletion
Of one thousand to-do lists;
A million reasons why
You should just stay inside.

She says you can see the human swell
Of ignorance, our city lights
Blotting out the stars
In a black ocean of broken politic
And irretrievable fault lines-
Divisions between us all.
Lives twisted with professional smiles
And eyes lit with stunning indifference.

Still, I have felt charity and warmth
On the doorstep of lunatics and fascists.
I have read the love of life
In faces of those who gave up.
I have recounted countless artists
Who saw beauty
In moments that precisely lacked it.

I have spent too many nights
In anaesthesia,
Fleeing each instance of feeling
And terror; all the tremors
That tell me I am still alive.

Continued to stare at the lights
Long after her voice
And the laughter inside had gone.

Heard waves in the traffic.
A world so large, so expansive,
It can never truly sleep.
Every broken heart,
Every war-torn land,
Every promotion,
Every one-night stand.

I wonder what would happen
If we all stood still.
If we all took one moment
To observe the motion
That unfolds beneath
Our static windowsill.

If we all took one moment
To recover our loss.
The wars that we won,
The feelings, forgot.
The hell we retain;
Our paradise, lost.
Shreya Dristi Nov 2015
Folds of water
Layers of dirt
Bubbling foam
This vast body which
Wraps itself around the Earth

Schools of life
Clumps of Color
This is where it thrives
The souls of creatures
A huge potpourri of lives

The might of the ocean
The strength of the Sea
No one can match
No one could hardly believe
it's ability
To devour kingdoms
Engulf islands and make them its own
Drag them down
Yank them by their legs, shatter their bones
Drag them down
Til they ultimately can descend no more
are left without a morsel of hope

I can almost hear the primordial sea deity bellow
With a voice so deep
It shocks and explores
A voice which shakes your soul
A voice which could cause disaster and tremors
An immense
Deep bass tone.
It would strike more than just a powerful chord
“Come back to me”
“Return to your mother’s womb, down here, down low”
“You belong to me, my right, my property!”
“Return to the world below.”
“Come back home.”

Under the Sea
What's deep beneath?
The iridescent water
The clouds of foam
Conquered by monsters?
Down there,
Do sirens roam?
We aren't aware
We do not know

Enigmatic waves
Rows of fossils
Caked in dirt
A haven for aquatic raves
A museum holding remnants
telling the story of the Mother Earth

This is the Sea
Take a swim sometime and feel its rhythm
Listen to its story
Feel the history

Flow with the sea’s entrancing beat
I have faith and I believe
That the sea is a world of its own
Accentuated sometimes by its powerful voice or melodious hum
No less mighty than the world above.
A wet world which is beautiful
- Untouched -
A world which should remain pure, serene
- Untouched -

My take on the ocean. I have an uncanny connection with the Sea.
I feel it is the epitome of strength. I just love it. I don't know how something so huge and vast can be so personal to me. Ironic.
Outside Words Nov 2018
Under smoldering red desert skies
Earthquake-like tremors displace sand
And giant gears pulling wide treads give rise
To a towering, onyx colored machine of man.

A scientific prophecy once foretold
That the oceans and trees could be killed
And in its toxic love of black gold
Humanity granted this prophecy fulfilled.

It used to warm our bodies and minds
But now, our sun is something to fear
Our lives and colossal machines combine
And chances of survival remain unclear.

For military rule has exploited
Our natural will to fight and survive
They’ve usurped us and anointed
Themselves rulers of the inside.

What’s left of our once great society
Roams the Earth in onyx colored arcs
Scientists try to return Earth’s sobriety
As we wage war for oligarchs.

Terrorism between 3 arcs ensues
As each believes the one to solve
The problem of an Earth abused
Will become ruler by forceful resolve.

I've had ideas fleshed out for this one for a while. Finally got around to writing it!

© Outside Words
Tyrus Oct 2017

these buzzing fluorescence have you..
looking just a little pale.
All of this antiseptic really CLASHES with that perfume
This linoleum makes any pair of 100$ shoes look
I don't think you see
just how BEAUTIFUL you look right now
Do you see me?
Look in the mirror
all of your once graceful skin
the HOLLOW spots that dig in to your face
Your color
its so
I love you
all of this multicolored CONSTANT love we share
Be RAW and HEAVY with me
These tremors
Ill HOLD you baby
Listen to my voice
The way that WE DANCE!!
The music
The cells splitting
2 TO 4 TO 8 TO 16!!!
Did you think Id leave you sweetheart? That easy?
REST my love
I love you
but not..

as strong.
they try to put some
on our love
on when I will leave you
One day you'll wake up with a stitch
and you'll know
I understand that you want me dead
fine then.

Inspiration and some lines from Kevin Kantor
raine miller Mar 2017
how do you apologize for something 
as intrinsic as the mapped curves of your body, 
of dips and valleys marked with double **’s 
that stand straighter and taller than you ever have?

tell my mother that i take medicine to stop the tremors, 
but my body is still a fault line, 
still a “it’s her fault line” that cracks open every time that i walk down the street. 

sometimes i think about what would have happened 
if i had worn shorts under my skirt. 
would an extra layer have slowed you down, 
forced you to think about the territories your hands were invading
like the colonists we used to mock in history class - 
other times i scrub myself with bleach when i realize i’m Turner-ing the corner. 

we were told in our youth it isn’t safe to run with scissors
but i feel safer carrying blades between my teeth –
the taste of blood keeps his tongue out of my mouth.
Nyaituga May 19
Really, when you think about it... we're good friends, you and I.
You wrap your arms around my chest and cover my mind with barbed wire; you fill my hands with tremors, but we're friends, you and I.

Yes, your grip is tight - because you're trying to protect me. Your wires are a fortress, built to ward off the pain. And yes, there are tremors on each of my fingers - but that's because you're fighting to keep my foes at bay.

Thank you for the chest cramps and thank you for the barbed wire. Thank you for the tremors - you mean well and you're kind! I see what you're trying to do and I'm grateful, truly. Survival-mode is a gift and you give it to me daily. You know all the worst case scenarios, you recite them to keep me from harm. Your symphony of alarm bells is an ode to my safety. You fill my mind with flashing lights - and you do it out of love! You live to keep me alive. So thank you.

But friend, you can rest now. There's no danger here. I'm safe, we're safe, there's no need to fear. You can loosen up now, ease your grip, drop the wires. You can stop fighting now, rest a little, stop the tremors. We have an understanding, I hear you loud and clear. But it's ok now, we're ok now! Look, the King's here.
©  Nyaituga 2019
Cordelia Copson Dec 2013
How old were you when you first heard the words we don't know where they go?
Was it your grandma, your friend, your mother?
In the stars they said,
In the sun, they promised, looking after you.
One day you'll go to the sun and sit with them there,
it's obvious.

When you're eleven years old you fully understand that the sun is somewhat uninhabitable.
You and your friends have discussions, like, you know santa's not real, right?
everybody knows that. and do you believe in heaven? or do you think you'll go to hell?
you're kind of perplexed as you lay in your sleeping bag, thinking about the stars.
Maybe it's the same thing.

When you're seventeen you get the overwhelming feeling that you're about to die.
It doesn't make much sense but you go to the doctors a lot.
She tells you that it's fine and that headaches are not unusual and that a brain scan is unecessary
You nod and smile as though you're relieved and come back next week.
You realise that you don't know where you're going.

When you're twenty three you give birth to a blonde haired little boy, you call him Clive.
You tell him things like I'll love you forever when he's too little to understand, and I'm here when he cries for missing you.
You look at the stars with him and remember the way your fathers hands shook when you told you about your grandmother.
You tell Clive I'll never leave you and he trusts you.

When you're twenty seven you're burdened with the task of telling your baby boy that you are about to die.
You want to say I'll miss you and I'll always love you and don't be sad but you're really not sure if you'll ever feel anything again, and the rest of it's just pointless.
You put off telling him, but he cries, so he knows.
Maybe, you think, it's the way your hands are shaking.

You don't think you believed it when you first heard it.
In the stars, your father said. His hands were shaking.
You think you knew from those feeble tremors,
You think they were screaming *I don't know what happens when we die.
idk i read a book and got sad
sorry that this is bad
If I'm worth the fight,
then I can take a hit.
It isn't whether I win,
it's if I refuse to quit.
That's funny, because just wait,
for about 24 hours.
Where I'll gain the tremors,
but lose uncertain power.
An inner conflict is my battle,
but one I don't think ends.
Should I be authentically useless?
There's a home I could transcend.
I could ascend upon my limits,
I'm a king to every kind of thinking.
I control my darkness,
in the rapid form of blinking.
Open, close, open, close,
My fists could match the sides.
They're knocking on my skull,
of course I'm gonna abide.
I lost purpose when I dropped value,
when nothing stopped me from the pain.
if all I give to the world is anger,
why shouldn't I receive the same??
I relapsed again, I hate myself.
Punched a wall so hard I instantly bruised my knuckles.
Pulled out a patch of my hair.
Made my leg blue from hitting it so hard.
I feel like I deserve this.
And is my thought differing from the truth?
I don't think so.
Keep living, y'all.
I'll do the same.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated.
Dennis Ayzin May 18
Flower gentle, colors flowing,
Purple bleeds from velvet red,
White is pure, it barely holding
Sinless dew, confused and wet.

Petals curvy, gently squeezing
Swollen flesh of yellow stigma,
Scent arousing, tremors pleasing
Form lascivious enigma.
Please look up the Daring nature (full)
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