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"unalloyed" poems
Fantasizing Feeling Needing Something scarce is eating at my melancholy. As I deliberate, a vigor burns beneath my blood. I get so warm thinking about his hands griping my hips. My cheeks flush at the thought of his skin pressed heavily against mine. Unalloyed ecstasy His subsistence is the key that reveals my coffer. I beg to feel his breathing For him to cognize how much I want to gratify his every desire. Slow motion when I fantasize. A room bursting of fine riches I could erupt with gratification. A gentleman who can pleasure me both with innocence and sensuality. Rarity that comes as one. He demonstrates loves configuration, he bestows complexity and certainty. One could ****** with the thought of his supportive charisma. I weaken at the awareness of his reciprocated needs. The definition of love is embraced through his actions. Bleeding perfection, he is untouchable. He makes me feel amity. He is the dream I want to feel as I shut my eyes at dusk. I can sense him so close, yet when I open my eyes I’m alone. He is what every women searches for.
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Jul 12, 2021
Jul 12, 2021 at 10:41 PM UTC
Sense
I.  The event wall: The quarters going coloured: Red, yellow, limpid azure, white unalloyed; at the center, a dark void lightening, radiating outward - never breaking the event-horizon. Reverent circumambulation by tradition, is done clockwise. II. Reading the tiles Is peace in expansion or contraction? Incarceration. Staring at the tiles. Acceptance or rebellion? Time doesn't tell. III. Prospect You are free now: making a mascot of you, we have set you free. While singing paeans to your greatness yet, we bemoan how coolies and ******* are be-spoiling our home. Rest in peace! We'll wait for Christ.
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Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 7:04 PM UTC
Mandela | Tribute
Dreaming in ivory she heeded nothing. The solace rushed through each cell like unalloyed ecstasy. Evaporating her last sigh, she let go of the agony left viable within. Life wasn’t absolute anymore, self identity was consumed. A lifeless corpse with no earthly ties, no human needs. Decay began having his way with her devoid flesh case. Life flourishes from blight so gracefully. What once contained memories and dreams, was now reduced to naught.
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Nov 15, 2022
Nov 15, 2022 at 8:11 PM UTC
Ivory Dreams
Hail to Thee, Immortal Three Knowledge we sing on laud Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates Philosophy, to be human awed Teach through time, consciously Nod not, what others fraud Socrates taught, Divine Being God not of brutal Athens’ passions Entity of Beauty, Truth Seeing Goodness unseen in day’s fashions Soul for unalloyed agreeing Lessons humanities’ compassion Talk eternal justice, everlasting life Socrates’ Sovereign Right of Reason Clearly mind deceived sense’s strife Invincible perfection be God’s season Thus, our key to knowledge ever rife Priests who find this, absolute treason No church or Socratic school A barefoot man roamed to teach Socrates mocked for looking a fool His speech not one to simply preach Plato witnesses a martyr’s drool Cruel hemlock, words did so breach Handsome aristocratic youth Plato Followed Socrates’ Eternal Wisdom But soon to find his own credo In Medara to find Euclid and freedom Egyptian geometry to provide dado To Plato life, expression; not a system Eternally an artist, Plato did develop Philosophic circle in Academus groves Bring Athens, world knowledge envelop Discretions of sensations, be not oaths What man may be, an animal jealous Plato’s allegorical cave found in droves As Plato once be Socrates’ disciple So too, to Plato would Aristotle be Passing comprehension archetypal Successions of genius’ visions do see Aristotle taking it step further, as vital To science of hands-on discovery And this is where we see a parting Of two distinctly opposing philosophies Plato being at odds, with science starting Aristotle’s truth, finding no apologies Things not happening by chance imparting Frivolity of duopoly, dichotomy to Socrates But a new era has surely now dawned Science exploring an invisible atom And the seen and unseen correspond So to Aristotle’s, Plato’s, Socrates’ datum Brilliant new philosophies have spawned An abstract notion of conceived stratum
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May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 12:09 PM UTC
Immortal Three
Hail to Thee, Immortal Three Knowledge we sing on laud Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates Philosophy, to be human awed Teach through time, consciously Nod not, what others fraud Socrates taught, Divine Being God not of brutal Athens’ passions Entity of Beauty, Truth Seeing Goodness unseen in day’s fashions Soul for unalloyed agreeing Lessons humanities’ compassion Talk eternal justice, everlasting life Socrates’ Sovereign Right of Reason Clearly mind deceived sense’s strife Invincible perfection be God’s season Thus, our key to knowledge ever rife Priests who find this, absolute treason No church or Socratic school A barefoot man roamed to teach Socrates mocked for looking a fool His speech not one to simply preach Plato witnesses a martyr’s drool Cruel hemlock, words did so breach Handsome aristocratic youth Plato Followed Socrates’ Eternal Wisdom But soon to find his own credo In Medara to find Euclid and freedom Egyptian geometry to provide dado To Plato life, expression; not a system Eternally an artist, Plato did develop Philosophic circle in Academus groves Bring Athens, world knowledge envelop Discretions of sensations, be not oaths What man may be, an animal jealous Plato’s allegorical cave found in droves As Plato once be Socrates’ disciple So too, to Plato would Aristotle be Passing comprehension archetypal Successions of genius’ visions do see Aristotle taking it step further, as vital To science of hands-on discovery And this is where we see a parting Of two distinctly opposing philosophies Plato being at odds, with science starting Aristotle’s truth, finding no apologies Things not happening by chance imparting Frivolity of duopoly, dichotomy to Socrates But a new era has surely now dawned Science exploring an invisible atom And the seen and unseen correspond So to Aristotle’s, Plato’s, Socrates’ datum Brilliant new philosophies have spawned An abstract notion of conceived stratum
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54
*On and off Flickering grey Chirpy feelings Parked at bay Unalloyed devotion Just for one Pushes you Into oblivion After a lot Hue and cry When you learn The lesson why Transition from Tears to smile Bubbles the senses Though takes a while* Bharti
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Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 5:12 AM UTC
Transition
Sensations that urge the detection of the greatest restraint and circumspection; the abruptness of spontaneous interruptions sprout volcanic internal eruptions full of relevant abundance Flummoxed by the changes in the script; engaging wonder as suppressed thoughts are written on your face; withholding the ache as ebullient vivacity shakes you awake Carrying a mischievous vividness full of cogent stimulus – fruitful affirmations of levelheaded, sanguine acceptance and unalloyed quiescence Redesigning aspects of existence with unabridged persistence – receiving silent guidance from above by the means of scintillating messages lighting the living flame of love.
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Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
Silent Guidance
Perhaps it was her voice itself, clear and simple, Unalloyed by any classically trained fol-de-rol, Or possibly the nature of her faith Displayed with such clarity, such transparency By that very instrument, But in any case, she had utterly bewitched the populace Of the place known as Ahwaga by her distant cousins, And when she stood on the Delaware & Hudson platform The next morning, they had cheered her lustily, All but begging her You must return to us, But the train had lost its footing on a sharp grade Mere hundreds of yards before making the station at Deposit, And she was lost in the carnage and conflagration. The townspeople she had said her farewells to that morning Were distraught, their feelings a mix of grief And an odd sense of culpability, a nagging misgiving That perhaps this was an omen, some augury Denoting that their own faith was not up to scratch, And so they had taken her back to their own burgh To bury her in a manner befitting her piety (She had been travelling with siblings, But they acquiesced to the plan, though how willingly Not wholly apparent at the time, And made no clearer through the ramble of time) And so she was laid to rest in a plot Surrounded by ornate fencing, her grave marked By an obelisk pointing unambiguously to her Heaven, And it is said that, on autumn evenings When the breeze rustle the dying leaves just so, You can hear the spirits of her Mohawk brethren Come down from Quebec, murmuring songs Telling of the spirits living in the trees and hedgerows, Spoken in the ancient tongue Of the languid, unhurried Susquehanna far below.
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Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 8:37 PM UTC
The Obelisk For Sa-Sa-Na Loft
Perhaps it was her voice itself, clear and simple, Unalloyed by any classically trained fol-de-rol, Or possibly the nature of her faith Displayed with such clarity, such transparency By that very instrument, But in any case, she had utterly bewitched the populace Of the place known as Ahwaga by her distant cousins, And when she stood on the Delaware & Hudson platform The next morning, they had cheered her lustily, All but begging her You must return to us, But the train had lost its footing on a sharp grade Mere hundreds of yards before making the station at Deposit, And she was lost in the carnage and conflagration. The townspeople she had said her farewells to that morning Were distraught, their feelings a mix of grief And an odd sense of culpability, a nagging misgiving That perhaps this was an omen, some augury Denoting that their own faith was not up to scratch, And so they had taken her back to their own burgh To bury her in a manner befitting her piety (She had been travelling with siblings, But they acquiesced to the plan, though how willingly Not wholly apparent at the time, And made no clearer through the ramble of time) And so she was laid to rest in a plot Surrounded by ornate fencing, her grave marked By an obelisk pointing unambiguously to her Heaven, And it is said that, on autumn evenings When the breeze rustle the dying leaves just so, You can hear the spirits of her Mohawk brethren Come down from Quebec, murmuring songs Telling of the spirits living in the trees and hedgerows, Spoken in the ancient tongue Of the languid, unhurried Susquehanna far below.
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34
will you still think of me when the winter’s snow like ****** needles sticking and pricking me slamming your smack mainlining your masochism melts to pastel pink mornings and pregnant dewdrops gravity propelling them down flower petal water slides? will my taste loiter on your lips will the memory of my touch my ghost fingers still leave erupting goose-bumps your hair standing on end my unalloyed current sparking into the night of kerosene. will the fire bring me to mind? my face engraved on your memory like a holy icon to which you run when the flames rage as far as you can see the orange haze of ****** and the hoard of children running blistered skin and their screams piercing gouging each wearing your face.
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Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
wasteland
O' Salty tear, a mere clear drop you are You've emerged for a million different reasons many of which only the shedder knows for you've emerged in all seasons. The season of sadness or reason of joy The tears of grief and the tears of joy You and your unalloyed saline taste Thou art' but an emotional waste. O' Salty tear each time you drop into oblivion why not vanish away with your shedder's grief? I tell you O' tear if you take my opinion oughtn't you grant your shedder full relief? Ah, but thou seem a ceaseless ocean in reserve and store No one can be sure, he'll cry no more When you trickle down those sad upturned lips we know destiny perhaps made those painful slips! You are the raindrops of a grief-clouded heart You do emerge when two lovers have to part Help your shedder turn over a new leaf so you're associated less with grief. I've watched many a jilted lover weep all alone by the seaside so sorrowfully and watched tears glide down noses or pince-nez as their salty tears merged with the salty sea. O' Salty tear but it's time you learnt to wash away all and any melancholy from your shedder's heart and be such a buddy who never wishes to meet again the tearful shedder from whom you depart
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Dec 6, 2024
Dec 6, 2024 at 9:53 AM UTC
O' salty tear
in the rarified air of kilimanjaro damsel vyomakesi sporting parrot in hand seduces recluse vyomakesa to another game of wanton love making some five thousand feet below.... i battle uphill step by step breathless ambling into the den of lassitude intellection and fervor dissipate until that experiential void is hit as frugal breaths get consumed for unalloyed endurance at that razor’s edge between life and death just then the root mantra of subsistence alights the anima soham...soham...soham it whispers iceberg mendicant you take a pause from that fervid dalliance with the galactic enchantress to throw my way, an entranced smile hermetical vyoma armed with that beam i’ve now merged with the macrocosm ©2019
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Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 10:10 AM UTC
merged with the macrocosm
Let me be who I really am with you My eyes directly train upon what’s true My realness experiences your realness Avoiding deceit or pretense Authenticity unimpeded Open heart, sharing my opened mind The real thing unadulterated My words and feelings unalloyed Let me be who I really am with you An undisputed portrait of me Meaning what is said honestly Frankness displayed in every word Candid truth is what you have heard I’m the legtimate and upfront article Let me be who I really am with you
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Aug 7, 2020
Aug 7, 2020 at 8:26 AM UTC
Congruence
Flowers of the soul are kind They are our greatest treasure. They bring about such peace of mind Beatitude and pleasure. In love you will surely find Beauty beyond measure! The light through stained glass windows Makes love that's unalloyed. The heart soaks up the colors. Somehow they fill a void. There's vibrancy of spirit. There's unity to share. There's peaceful loving pardon There's music in the air! You can find rest from worries There is no doubt or fear. Only sweet redemption Yes! All those things are here! If your being has a yearning For joys which can't be told Come and smell the blossoms The flowers of the SOUL. SoulSurvivor Catherine Jarvis 9/11/2020
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Sep 11, 2020
Sep 11, 2020 at 4:34 AM UTC
Soul Flowers
Longing for his endearment Was the only thing That my mind was on Seeing him all the time Wasn’t enough for me I needed more I needed him to appear Out of the shadows And take me in his arms Be my ardent guardsman Tell me that you adore me Spoil me with your perfectly Affecting kisses, give me unalloyed joy
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Oct 17, 2021
Oct 17, 2021 at 10:25 PM UTC
Ardent Guardsman