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Eloisa Sep 19
She loved and valued others
as exactly as they are.
Then proudly watched them as they changed to the truest and best versions of themselves.
False Poets May 8
when you understand my poems perfectly then,

their utility is inutile,
their usefulness is, will. always be, in the

nth  

reinterpretation, a million and still counting,
as long as you must guess at its labyrinth inner wired construct,
be pleasured by the roiled and rolled curves upon your tongue,
two lives (yours, mine), a paired wine tasting, we together,
believing in the greatness of joyous frustration

some say, as I do, the world is better for the
utility of thine own struggled understanding,
the truest combination of two way communication,
surpassed only by our at last armed embrace,

when at last we understand our mutuality of need and salve...
Sebastian Macias Sep 2018
The artist must become a whole
Completely obsessed with their art
Obsessed with who they are
Truly, who they are
Without hesitation
Infatuated about how they create
The art that makes them be,
What it makes them live for
From how they take their coffee
To every moment of a good ****
Reading in peace at dawn,
Picking fruit from a grocery store
The truest of artists are always lost
Lost in their own mind
Unconcerned with the lashing of
Society's moral tongue
Pushing themselves out to sea
Creating only to be alive from within
Where it all counts,
And it all has some value
From whence we tip to toast the Cocktail new
Too pricey for a Sip, if you ask me
Still, those Pubbers demand your Freshest Brew
Either for Show or Truest Cheers that be
Now who composed the Price which I complain
May rob my Wages on half-month's budget?
You have Defense, though: Is that my Domain
To liver that Sign out of my Pocket?
I suppose either way Purchased or not
Those Senses concerned will take no Notice
With Baskets fare, Bread and Butter forgot
Mix the Lager still Best Friends acquiesce.
The Currant still topped, which to Celebrate
Ignore the Side-Bugs; Light the Good Debate.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Though in Prime Moment the Truth we discuss
The Third Great Angel flew to Intercede,
Playing her Harp which enwrangles the Lust
And gently reveal the Beauty-in-Thee
Yes, that Truest Virtue which no Malice accords
On Serving Patience a Letter was read
No more, no more for Condensation's Words
Are just enough to leave these Germs for dead
Not much for Command of Good English proposed
Was starting to tassle the Rumours and Wine
But such as you are yet too Young to dispose
A Lady's demanding Shell you design.
Pray take, this Harper knows how to direct
The Vitruvian Boy, waving for your Affect.
#daleysangels #jessicacldunbar
Take me to this river
Of dreams
In which I seem to love diving into without knowledge
Without the depth
And the age of the river
It isn't worth swimming
Take me to this river
The sixteen hours that pass by in the day
Seem like the nights are longer
In this moment in time
If the thighs linger on the shores of a dock of the bay
The carefree youth of air touching your face
The hair leaving your slandered mind
Scalded by the hot water
By, the very river that keeps you in my mind
Keeping a couple of purgatory's memories
Sitting on a portal full of doubt
The love is in this water body
The meandering brook perspicuously describes my life
Away from the clear waters
Take me away from the river
The reflection is palpable
The satin is reflected in the breathable satin dress
Bending the benevolence
Into a lucid sky of white,
An indulgence of an
Evocatively colourful odessy.
My dearest mother
Of the muse,
A whispering sea
Of beckoning delicacy.
Divulging enriching
Secrets of the tides.
Majestic sands of salty
Caramel delight,
Unravelling the enigmatic
Solitude of time.
Grains of meandering
Contemplation;
Emancipating the mind
From the burden
Of the distortive rhythm,
And into the truest dream
Of night,
Where the spirit chimes solely
In awakened starlight.
my lipstick
on the mirror

stretch fingertips
toward truest feels

jar the numb

as I smear
the color me
from wrought fists
wringing heart

cheerleading
through conjoined
memoir dreamscapes
forged with helix lips

spinning ourglass
to shift the sands

while I stifle
these cries
steeped
in stab

for the
greatest good
It is in this hour,
as the exposure of day gives way to the intimacy of dark,
when all plans cease to matter
and the very air relaxes from reverberations of days clutter.
darkness smooths out the bumps of light,
softening annoyances
and lending much needed contrast to things that matter most.
We behave truest in our darkest hour
John Niederbuhl Sep 2016
at first an unrelenting green covers everything:
the trees, the lawn, the hillsides, the marshes, the windbreaks,
everything is completely and totally green, the deepest, truest green,
so green you might even forget that it wasn't always green,
so green you might not stop to think that it won't always be green.
school children look out windows during their exams,
longing to be free amid all that greenness,
lovers sit in parks near the water, under perfectly green leaves,
listening to the wind, watching the stars come out
and making their wishes, forever joined with that unrelenting green.
artists dip their impressionistic brushes in the green and dab on canvas
pictures of people gathered at picnics in dappled, green shade,
joined with the greenness, enveloped and absorbed by it,
becoming green themselves. they paint pictures of leafy trees reaching beyond the canvas with patches of sky showing through, a perspective of endless summer that you have to look at a long time
to see and feel, but once you find it beyond the greenness, in the
blue beyond the hill, you will be part of it always: through the fading mid-summer and pale, yellowing late summer, even into the multi-
colored fall and the stark, grey-white winter, and you will know life, and hope and love,  and nothing will ever seem the same again
JaxSpade Jul 11
If you're in pain
It wasn't love

If it didn't last
If it's gone

You never had

Love

Because love isn't painful
And love isn't sad
If you're in pain
With tears in your lap

If she cheated
If he is always mad


You never had

Love

Because love is a feeling
That doesn't feel bad
It's joyful and cheery
A sacrificial lamb

Love is kissing
And holding hands
If that's what you're missing
Understand

You never had

Love

Love is patient and kind
Love is not jealous
Or boastful or proud

It doesn't demand
Or record any wrongs
Love never gives up
On a woman or man

If you're in pain
It wasn't love

If it didn't last
If it's gone

You never had

Love

1 Corinthians 13:4-7
I Corinthians 13:4-7
If you found it Buggersome that I Cry
Yet keep the Tears which solicit the Rain
Those were really yours; Apart which I lie
Would cower the Deed which summons the Pain
And Pain - this un-needed - turns the Ego sour
Then from Wise Mouths state Abandon precise
Normal for Commoners in Easy Hour
To shut the Door by Frustration concise
Then, do forget the Elder's Timeless Thought
Of Partners nurture from Time's Honour brew
That, you see, Instant Pimps' Deception caught
And turn Gold Devotion to Sin a-new.
Perhaps if She subscribes to your Profile
Would you Consider; That your Truest Smile.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Your Clouds, judged be it pickled or disdain
Have mostly trained your canaries to think
Whether to ruffle more Feathers; Then feign
Those Truest Notes dipped; And begroom your Mink
For who could solve what your Tampered Mind spies
Then translates such Harvest for a Desert
To Good Sense cheer; From Truth becomes a Lie
With Random Calls ring your Body to advert
And whilst you do, any Cause to forget
Those Taped Pioneers who endured your Phase
Pray for your Interview; And chance to beget
Which Startled Sweets was the Sweetest at base.
Yet still Occupied to that Video owned
Belittle what Possum's Cry now reknowned.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Yaser May 2018
It was brought to our world from a primordial ether
that bore no resemblance to anything the human mind could ever know,
let alone comprehend.
And all those that looked upon,
stood before it, uncertain,
not of the creature,
but of the sanctity of what they once held above all as their truest sanctuary: the mind.

To feel it slip away
into an abyss not much unlike
the birthplace of the blasphemy with which they were assailed,
was a welcome turn.
A new escape.
An impenetrable sanctum
Insanity…
False Poets Apr 3
words conveyed with a mutual clarity parity for communication
will end only when the world ends first
and the communitas is no more,and words, exist purposelessly  
for there is no left with whom to communicate, precisely

but now, of this moment,
write words, sentences multiplied but circumscribed,
verses with mystical aura,
whose utility so suspect and multiple meanings hidden within,
taken by you for the specific utility you uncover and create

ah, to write of things clearly visible to all,
but possessed differently, by each reader, this is the greatest commonsensical commonwealth useful
for and of humans indexed by unique word tendons tenderly

when this passes, when literature no longer
can be messengered to 127 Persian provinces,
each the message same,
yet given up in 127 different languages^

when you understand my poems perfectly then,
their utility is inutile,
the usefulness is in the
nth reinterpretation,
a million and still counting,
as long as you must guess at its labyrinth wired inner construct,
being pleasured by the roiled and rolled curves upon your tongue,
a lives paired wine tasting, together believing
in the greatness of joyous frustration

some say, I do, the world is better for the
utility of thine own struggled understanding,
the truest combination of two way communication,
surpassed only by our armed embrace at last




p.s. Pradip, be careful what you wish for....a poet false...


9:15am  April 3, 2019
^ Book of Esther 1:22 For he (the King) sent letters into all the king's 127 provinces, into every province according to the writing thereof, and to every people after their language, that every man should bear rule in his own house, and that it should be published according to the language of every people.
remington carter Dec 2016
were i to eat the sun and become
like gods in high and low spaces
would i enter a new room and dine
with others like me
or with others above me?

what it was to have no one above
with the truest of spaces in halls and windows
my mind reaching the edge of space
losing it ever since

i, in an emptiness that exists.
linger on corners in my boxmind,
it is always the same when the
antipsychotics wear off—
good good goodnight
ever so cryptic!
You may notice I shadowed your Events
Out of Deep Gesture to your Customed Doors
Yet, stand-out Naked, begs for my Conscience
How such Blokish Skill would be so adored
It still Stings, really, for your Sun exploit
After few of the Truest Rays give space
Though mouths copped, hymns their minted throats avoid
From submitting premature drafts at-face
It is, though constrict, the Best Pill swallowed
As every Medication would redden
But, after process, heal my Will's allowed
And free myself from this Cage submitten.
But why, though Free, these Keys in my Pocket still
Scratch my Heart-Drawn Car; Welts I duly fill.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
ryn Jul 2014
Heavy and laboured the air permeates within
Coursing through the maze of tunnels.
Undeterred of where stone ends and rock would begin
Survival that drives to fill its channels.

Slow rumble that ignites the need to beat
Awaken functions both lacklustre and listless
The engine behind these dread ridden feet
Drag its load through mundane tasks emotionless.

At the core there resides the truest of stones
A jewel of sheer rarity that inspires wonder
Breathes life selflessly into dead broken bones
It throbs and ebbs with silent subtle power.

Claimed it and perched it deep on a pedestal
Protected it like it's the one and only source
It's what that keeps us sane and tolerable
It's what that pulls us through our course.

Whenever I think of if this gem would last
This monolith of a heart that I prop up *****
Stands steadfast hopeful of the light it'd cast
We have learnt so much of it to know that it is perfect.

*You are perfect...
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