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Shivendra Om Jun 2015
Your uncolored hair
—my love—
is the indefinitely long
silver lining
of my cloudy heart
by Luca Shivendra Om
© Luca Shivendra Om
Travis Green Aug 2018
An immense circle of thoughts was clouding
my brain in this room of reconfigured dimensions,
the spinning ceiling fan whirling into a windmill,
the ******* floors breaking into a wave of sharpened
metaphors, the expressionless curtains filled with fear
and crashing scenery, a dark hollow surface converging
in a rhythm of insane beats, imprisoned noted drumming,
disentangled sentences, shattering subjects, compressed
conjunctions and compounds accelerating into an eternity
of uncolored existences, as I stare at the isolated sky,
swollen stars diverging in a broken pattern of faded worlds,
the breathless moon sunken in a domain of interchangeable
languages, meaningless mazes, chopped consonants,
crumbling dreams, everything shifting in a sea of diminishing
whirlpools, while I drifted into a realm of uncaged thoughts,
a crushing cycle of unbalanced worlds, dizzy and senseless
paragraphs bleeding into timeless realities.  My eyes are
plummeting and shackled in drumbeating rhetoric, lost logos,
swallowed pathos, enveloped ethos, rainless cheeks, cloaked chests,
handcuffed arms, square root hips disassembling into deferred
depictions, distilled dreams, shadowed feet hardly more than a
poetic sound, a sore scrawled letter stretched in ragged angles,
stinging, helpless horizons.  I gazed at the shattered glass on
the kitchen floor, how its cracking vibration rumbled inside
my veins, how its impossible syllables blazed my soul,
the burning air around my inner being suffocating in Saturn,
vanishing in Venus, exploding on Earth, every ****** debris
splitting in horrid labyrinths, a screaming depth hidden in
disguise.  I glanced around at the broken wall where
my drunken dad fists where imprinted, the mangled wood
hanging in drugged vowels, the rotten symmetry disappearing
in chalky chambers, roughly lined hues declining without a trace,
as I reflected on the series of events that transpired, the way I
could hear the slamming door raging inside my vessel,
enflamed flaming verbs hovering in high rhymes,
hardened adjectives, destroyed derivatives, disintegrating
equations, the way his bladed feet dragged across the floor,
every reverberating step drowning the sunken space between us,
unwritten surroundings trapped in the atmosphere, confined in a
cloud of inconsolable galaxies, the raging fire stained ***** bottle
wedged between his grubby hands, as I could smell the reeking
breath sifting out of his mouth onto my monotonous flesh,
the same ruthless flow traveling in stuttering nouns, drowning
my heart in Neptune, while I listened to his blazing bloodshot
words, You are nothing without me!  You are worthless!  
You are just a filthy *****!  I wish you would die!  The rising
diction clenched every part of my frame, the way I could breathe
in the asphalt in his tasteless lips, a dying aroma that made me feel
like I was a featureless street seeping into underground dungeons, undone, a destroyed beauty shotgunned.
Kivanc Apr 2019
When the tale was started to say
By unconscious birds,
All colors faded away
Except uncolored gray
And white and black.
I hope that I wrote the poem right because I have some problems with using some words which I don't know well.
Marília Galvão Feb 2015
Reality is simpler than it seems,
But it asks from you the clearest lens

Commonly what is seen, a Shadow:
                               Uncolored
                               Nebulous
                               Restrained
                               Empty
                               Achromatic
                               Larger
than you
in a sunny day of true september,
an external light however

Do not dress yourself by your shadow
Feel your body,
Feel the fabric,
Put it on
Take it off
and let your truly self decide between the blue scarf or the red hat.
JuliaLazareto Jun 2017
There's a story untold,
and that is, my dad has a heart of gold.
I promise you, I'll take care of you when you grow old.
Like how you took care of me, when I'm three years old.

He holds hammer, he likes gun,
and he will do anything for his loved one.
I'm so happy,
cause to have you as my dad?
I'm very lucky.

Peugeot, Porsche, Lexus, Ford.
You deserve more, more than adored.
With you, my life will be explored,
Without you, it will be uncolored.

"The greatest gift I ever had, came from God, and I call him dad."
I love you Daddy,
You never let me feel unhappy,
because you always do your duty,
and that is making me feel "Life is easy."

Dad, you're my superhero.
You know how to keep me out of sorrow.
With you, there's a beautiful tomorrow.
And with you, I glow.

I love you Daddy.....
Man was made of social earth,
Child and brother from his birth;
Tethered by a liquid cord
Of blood through veins of kindred poured,
Next his heart the fireside band
Of mother, father, sister, stand;
Names from awful childhood heard,
Throbs of a wild religion stirred,
Their good was heaven, their harm was vice,
Till Beauty came to snap all ties,
The maid, abolishing the past,
With lotus-wine obliterates
Dear memory's stone-incarved traits,
And by herself supplants alone
Friends year by year more inly known.
When her calm eyes opened bright,
All were foreign in their light.
It was ever the self-same tale,
The old experience will not fail,—
Only two in the garden walked,
And with snake and seraph talked.

But God said;
I will have a purer gift,
There is smoke in the flame;
New flowerets bring, new prayers uplift,
And love without a name.
Fond children, ye desire
To please each other well;
Another round, a higher,
Ye shall climb on the heavenly stair,
And selfish preference forbear;
And in right deserving,
And without a swerving
Each from your proper state,
Weave roses for your mate.

Deep, deep are loving eyes,
Flowed with naphtha fiery sweet,
And the point is Paradise
Where their glances meet:
Their reach shall yet be more profound,
And a vision without bound:
The axis of those eyes sun-clear
Be the axis of the sphere;
Then shall the lights ye pour amain
Go without check or intervals,
Through from the empyrean walls,
Unto the same again.

Close, close to men,
Like undulating layer of air,
Right above their heads,
The potent plain of Dæmons spreads.
Stands to each human soul its own,
For watch, and ward, and furtherance
In the snares of nature's dance;
And the lustre and the grace
Which fascinate each human heart,
Beaming from another part,
Translucent through the mortal covers,
Is the Dæmon's form and face.
To and fro the Genius hies,
A gleam which plays and hovers
Over the maiden's head,
And dips sometimes as low as to her eyes.

Unknown, — albeit lying near, —
To men the path to the Dæmon sphere,
And they that swiftly come and go,
Leave no track on the heavenly snow.
Sometimes the airy synod bends,
And the mighty choir descends,
And the brains of men thenceforth,
In crowded and in still resorts,
Teem with unwonted thoughts.
As when a shower of meteors
Cross the orbit of the earth,
And, lit by fringent air,
Blaze near and far.
Mortals deem the planets bright
Have slipped their sacred bars,
And the lone ****** all the night
Sails astonished amid stars.

Beauty of a richer vein,
Graces of a subtler strain,
Unto men these moon-men lend,
And our shrinking sky extend.
So is man's narrow path
By strength and terror skirted,
Also (from the song the wrath
Of the Genii be averted!
The Muse the truth uncolored speaking),
The Dæmons are self-seeking;
Their fierce and limitary will
Draws men to their likeness still.

The erring painter made Love blind,
Highest Love who shines on all;
Him radiant, sharpest-sighted god
None can bewilder;
Whose eyes pierce
The Universe,
Path-finder, road-builder,
Mediator, royal giver,
Rightly-seeing, rightly-seen,
Of joyful and transparent mien.
'Tis a sparkle passing
From each to each, from me to thee,
Perpetually,
Sharing all, daring all,
Levelling, misplacing
Each obstruction, it unites
Equals remote, and seeming opposites.
And ever and forever Love
Delights to build a road;
Unheeded Danger near him strides,
Love laughs, and on a lion rides.
But Cupid wears another face
Born into Dæmons less divine,
His roses bleach apace,
His nectar smacks of wine.
The Dæmon ever builds a wall,
Himself incloses and includes,
Solitude in solitudes:
In like sort his love doth fall.
He is an oligarch,
He prizes wonder, fame, and mark,
He loveth crowns,
He scorneth drones;
He doth elect
The beautiful and fortunate,
And the sons of intellect,
And the souls of ample fate,
Who the Future's gates unbar,
Minions of the Morning Star.
In his prowess he exults,
And the multitude insults.
His impatient looks devour
Oft the humble and the poor,
And, seeing his eye glare,
They drop their few pale flowers
Gathered with hope to please
Along the mountain towers,
Lose courage, and despair.
He will never be gainsaid,
Pitiless, will not be stayed.
His hot tyranny
Burns up every other tie;
Therefore comes an hour from Jove
Which his ruthless will defies,
And the dogs of Fate unties.
Shiver the palaces of glass,
Shrivel the rainbow-colored walls
Where in bright art each god and sibyl dwelt
Secure as in the Zodiack's belt;
And the galleries and halls
Wherein every Siren sung,
Like a meteor pass.
For this fortune wanted root
In the core of God's abysm,
Was a **** of self and schism:
And ever the Dæmonic Love
Is the ancestor of wars,
And the parent of remorse.
Keith W Fletcher Jun 2016
Rance looked at the speedometer. Set  at 65 and on cruise control ,which he was fully aware of - at least he should have been. He kept looking anyway.
   Every time he glanced at the speedometer , he had to lift the fingers of his right hand to see, as it was draped across the 12 to 1 o'clock Zone of the steering wheel in the most casual way ,causing his fingers, in drooping repose- to resemble an enormous back scratcher.
   His left arm rested on the window sill at the elbow as he was experiencing a slightly manic episode  of nerves,  therefore he was doing his best to stretch his left ear lobe  all the way down to his shoulder . Okay, maybe not that radical, but he was firmly  in danger of removing the inner layer of skin from his earlobe with his rubbing thumb.
    Quick glances to his right with darting eyes confirmed his fear .  He  also saw the absence of Largo's large grey head., so a quick backward glance into the rear of the camper- unintentional but habitual -allowed him to see that Largo was asleep beside stormy in the approximate territory each  had staked out
  It was as he was pulling his head back forward , that Piney glanced up from The Notebook to smile.  There in the co-pilot seat , she sat gracing him with a  warm smile , and as far as Rance could tell , those lips that  smiled at him- so friendly -/were totally natural and uncolored, and if she were wearing any makeup at all ,it wasn't enough to cover the four or five little freckles just above the tip of her nose.  The natural look  gave her face that timeless look.   She could have been anywhere from 18 to 25 or 30 he didn't really know and....he really didn't care .
    It was noticing  those walnut colored flecks, just outside the iris of her light ,hazel colored eyes that  started causing him such personal turmoil.  As it seemed - to his astonishment- that he seemed unable to detatch  his own vision from  those eyes.,  Until she looked back - that is.
    First happening to him when she had  accepted his offered ride and as she wss climbing into the copilot's seat. If it hadn't been for largo, who had instantly attached his chin onto her  thigh ,she might have noticed how he was staring .  Fortunately  he was able to break it off but he was still self conscious of that effect she was having on him.
   After he'd done the initial stumble in the parking lot , he had actually carried on with - amazingly enough  -surprising clarity. It was in those 10 minutes that he had learned of her hometown and  all of the time she had been on the road up to now. Which had been all of 30 miles.
    It was that nagging voice that  kept repeating - in the back of Rances mind- the thing that she had said. " I wasn't really planning to be stopping at that restaurant , but I had to get out of that car.   Although the rest of what she said mattered , it was that part that kept resonating .
  " Oh that guy ! "/She grumbled "was just getting creepier and creepier.  The farther we went down the road , the bolder he got ,as he began to get handsy.
First , puting his hand on my knee and then a little bit later a little higher up my thigh." She shuttered  as she spoke  , in a pantomime inspired gesture before continuing. "It was after he pulled out that bottle and then started taking swigs that things got really bad.   When we started coming around that long curve, just before we got to the restaurant he was unable to bother me and ,adjust  for the curve,  so he kept driving over into the other lanes. Then he over-corrected ,almost getting  us killed  by a semi that came barreling through in the slow lane.   Laying on the horn as it swerved away to miss us, and then I knew I had to get the hell out of that car. Anyway possible.
  " So right then I saw the restaurant sign and I tried to get the best lilt into my voice and the most calm that I could muster as I said  "Hey! there's the place  I'm supposed to play tonight. Pull over ..right here! RIGHT HERE!!!"
    But in his slow, befuddled ,drunk and almost run over  brain he stopped right in the middle of the slow lane . " Where we at?"
  "We're at the place I'm playing guitar music tonight " She said -that she told him this - to keep his attention so she could wrestle the guitar case out of the back seat ,over the seat back and out the doorway of the car.  Then just as she had it ready to pull through the open doorway she reluctantly said " Thanks for the ride." Then with a little thought and ****** attitude " yeah ...I'll be playing here tonight at 8 o'clock , so why don't you come by and listen" she lied
  A bit perturbed and confused but he was still able to find his inner creep as he spoke.... muttered .....gutterally.... whatever  "Yeah I'll do that and then me and you can have a drink and I got a little Coke " then he did that drunken kind of wink where they end up opening their mouth in  such a crooked fashion that it looks like a stroke victims Visage
  " Where is a fly when you need one ". Piney  said that then she pulled  the guitar case on through  the doorway , wrestling it the 10 feet over to the grassy apron of the road . Returning to close the door as  he asked "what did ja say?
   "Oh . I said I've always wanted to give Coke a try " and with that she closed the door -/just short of a slam.
 " You got it ba "...as he pointed his right forefinger like a pistol, but if it went off Piney never heard as she trundled her case across the grass area  in the most direct route towards the building and the safety of people.
  At this moment she was still in the process of confirming the abject fear that had Rances heart doing flip-flops, as he was aware that she was still sitting there ,reading his poetry.
    As soon as she had settled into the copilots seat, allowed Storm and Largo to introduce themselves and as they happily filed her smells away. Storm returned to his spot after just a half of a minute while Largo, on the other hand gently lay his head on her leg and for all appearances seemed to go into a trance.
     She confidently rubbed his head as she spoke in a slight cooing sound then looking up at Rance as he was guiding them out the parking lot and did the cruelist thing possible . As polite as a butterfly landing on the petal of a flower she asked if she might read some.
  To which Rance had said "Sure , go ahead " and then began trying to do damage to his left earlobe. After 30 miles he was beginning to catch up with his runaway thoughts.
   Any remnants of sua da vi that he had mustered up in the parking lot , now long gone -evaporated. Unfortunately now it was being  replaced by a carrousel of thoughts in poor Rances mind that spun to the cacophony of music from the most  sinister sounding Calliope.
   Though the music blasted a torrential sound wave throughout his mind it was not enough to silence the voice that kept repeating " oh man oh man oh man" - with annoying and echoing  persistance - from an obscure region--, somewhere beyond the Swirling carrousel.
   Then suddenly the crazy carnival and the voice came to a sudden mind shuttering stop.as piney's soft velvety voice interceded. " you wrote these...i mean ...all of them ?"
  A quick glance towards Piney was enough to.see this fresh faced girl with those magnetic eyes- now filled to overflowing  with tears -  was looking at him in a wonderfilled  way as she held the open notebook in right hand and with the other she stroked largos head.,Which had rematerialized.on her lap , just as soon as her voice had broken the relative silence.
    " He really likes you" remarked the reemerging Rance ,as he indicated Largo with his head. 'And yes I did ...write .....yeah all of them." Not really smooth he said to himself ..but okay.
    " This one " Piney pointed to a page that Rance could not take time to recognize " Somber Sunset. Its killing me....my grandmother just went ...and went through Alzheimer's before she passed. "
    Rance was still staring out the windshield, in silent astonishment - at her perception- when Piney gathered herself to the point of unbroken speech. " that is what its about ...right ?"
      Rance turned a full face ..straight on and confident gaze into her tear glissening eyes ( sua DA vi having returned full force) "Yes " he softly acknowledged her perceptivity" as I read it ...yes"
      Thats  when that annoying voice decided to reassert itself . "  There is always something about a damsel in distress that always brings  out even the most quivering coward ...." SHUT THE HELL UP!! Lance barked out at the voice as he stared out the windshield while making a slight adjustment to avoid.a small box in the road.
   At that very moment the sleeping Storm opened his eyes to stare forward with both ears and eyes , as if he had heard his masters voice call out in angry distress. With no danger detected as he scanned the area, he was about to resume his squirrel watching -which had just gotten good before the interruption -/Storm let his eyes scan around and land on Largo ." Humans "he spoke to himself " good thing they're smart enough to befriend dogs. Now that Largo...that's a dog that poor Rance could learn a thing or two from." Then he closed down his eyes and calling out "squorrely come on squirrel where'd ya go"  as his slight snore began and his right rear leg began twitching.
Robby May 2014
Vague
uncolored
with no home
I'm okay with being alone
James Jarrett Jan 2014
As freedom fades
to twilight dim
and darkness filters in
Hopes fall
Like withered leaves
On droughted lands
Of deep despair
But we ourselves
Are here
Brought,
Not blown
By fate and resolve
To stand before the storm
uncolored by fear
unshaken by threat
We Stand

For freedom
AP Apr 2015
Resting in an icicle hammock
Between the only two trees on a tundra of thick tears
The world remain an uncolored book
Neutral sheets of parchment paper, it usually looks
Yet, visible remains the vermillion that dribbles from my dry nose
The only shade around, which resembles petals of rose
Tissues soak up ruby rain that drips and drips
Streams of scarlet sorrows and crestfallen crimson collect as they cascade in the crevice of lust lips
The warmth of it all still cannot melt the frozen bars of this cell
But I must enjoy the only tint that reveals itself
Even if it's lava tone resembles the terrain of desolate Mars or the sinful flames of hell
Soon these cherry rivers will make way for a new pigment
A hue I will soon be wrapped in
When too much of this spills, and strings of a flowing red licorice yield to simple black
~~~~~~~~~~~
*And in a faint yelp, he knew there was no turning back
Blood
I wish
I held a secret
affections unuttered as to
avoid the coming clutter
of our friendship
coloring pages uncolored
now, i love colors, don't get me wrong
but when i mix the hues
and they come out differently than i expect
when i aim for purple and insteead get blue
its unnerving, loss of control,
thoughts of being undeserving because i did something wrong
the entire nature of our friendship has been altered - now, i am afraid
before. . .i could hide. everything could be fine.
so long as i shut my eyes and kept mt teeth clenched tight.
i wish i hadnt told you how i felt last night. . .
especially since i wish i knew how to express my self rightly
i cant put words to these affections quite so well
i love you, but not in the way that i might love someone else
that i would feel these things for. . . i don't think i like you like that
i think my jealousy is wrapped up in my own pride
i think my affections are perfectly fine.
i dont want you to have the idea
that im falling madly in love with you
and that you have to at all change the way we are
that. . .would be the tragedy i am afraid of.
even the slightest altering of the innocent
simple, beautiful, unexplained nature of our friendship
chemicals i think.

but could have been in the beginning with la mariposa
Angela Mary Pope Nov 2013
I was the prism through which your world reflected
creating new light and colors against the swaying surface of your perceptions

you were the prism through which my world reflected
creating new life uncolored by my pained and tilted past recollections

lingering, longing, lightly listed measures that build these porous excess thoughts

from this large dose of time I've swallowed with still so little progress
a placebo in place of real growth my space refuses to process

time, space, space, time.
Everything.

Someone is in pain again
and it's someone i can save
Underneath a loathing sky
Angry at me
Destroy me with your wind
And hail on my brain
Puncture my thoughts
To let my seeds burst through
The soil of my nullified skull

Cocked back eye
Filled blank pupils
Uncolored moon irises

The beauty of intelligence
Trumps the beauty of
Sydney Ann Apr 2018
Two lines converged but
Before our strides lined up as we entered
I had made up my mind
Before our entrance
And he had made up his mind too
Though in this matter
He had no right

Were I a selfish woman
Or a woman at all
It would not have mattered how little unselfish kindness he was made of
For I would not have given way to his want
I would have known the value of the secret garden I possessed within
Of no value to anyone but myself
But of value to me like a splash of paint to a yet uncolored canvass

However I was not a woman
I was without firm identity
I was, most importantly, selfless.
And when a selfish wish
Is paired with a selfless heart
A black hole is formed
Which rips the self of one
Invisibly away.
And so when he asked
Though he had no right
I gave over my self
Which is to say autonomy
To the black hole
And as a woman now, I am incomplete
Mark Lecuona Feb 2012
I have a question for you
Which mind would you care to view?
One that is cautious and considered
Or one unafraid of how things are delivered?
I can tell you of loves obsessions
I can tell you of pains debilitations
But do you not wish to be disturbed?
May I gain audience however undeserved?
You may judge me to be unstable
But I bring an imagination that is able
To explore the depths of human emotion
While maintaining a focus that is unbroken
By life or even the thought of pain
Though I scour the abyss time and time again
Fear not for what I say
Even though with words I do not play
It is for each of us to decide
If we can enter the tunnel and ride
With one another in the chamber of our fears
And wipe away each other's tears
Revealing to one another our true selves
Listening intently as another soul tells
The tale of their woe and condition
Not as a sign of mental destruction
But as a hand reaching for you
Giving you the courage to start anew
Because we do not fear the dark possibilities
They will not destroy our tranquilities
Even though we acknowledge the obvious
That we tire of the normalcy latching onto us
And wish to explore the outer reaches of existence
And then come home wearing the cloak of deliverance
So I revisit my question to you
Can you take it or shall I shrink from view?
For we are poets and our task is obvious
Tell the tale and let others wonder about us
I can do it and remain a sane person uncolored by blue
I can do it... I wonder if you can do it too
Sofia Paderes May 2013
One day I will wake up
to a clear sky and no lies
breathing the air my grandfathers breathed
singing the songs my ancestors sang
speaking the language of the soil and trees
matching the movement of the great butanding*
proudly proclaiming the land from which I came
not fearing the taunts of the uncolored race
standing as one people
one tribe
one blood
I yearn for this day.
The day that
I wake up
in my Philippines.
*butanding - whale shark
Ken Pepiton Jul 2023
Vu. { as long as any story's told wrong}

- suffer not a novice to teach

No bet. Nothing wagered, no pledge to be paid,
no bet was made between the unspeakable name,

core processing access id-entity… we'll call Truth.
And time, if there were a wager, Truth be against Time.

- thus we develop a worth for attention.

The way life works super resiliently, bouncing back
after starry chaos leaves a constant possibility
for truths beyond our scale of instant relativity
to manifest as seems with none the wiser,

the sun could flick us from existance, and be
acting as naturally as all such suns act
after a while, maybe

seven minutes ago.
---
listening to me bellyache and moan,
woe is me I am good for nothing.

Hmmm. I could just die, but then, there
would be just cause to believe me selfish,
and selfish is something I try not to be, in fact.

Information flow, twists awry through held truths,
never taken apart to reset the spring.

Nietsche was wrong about a lot of things.
Knowing he had a voice he could
convince himself was otherwise,
he had a real raw idea of God.
That's good.
Not useless, mostly used up. Flame.

That's what the real old *** in me said.
Fretting naught,
letting go all wishery wasery,
growing old effortlessly,
be causing, as wishes are supposed,
sup-post,
same as prayers properly aimed, to
be collected to be
be answered, as information related
to pain in the brain or heart, or core
mental effort processing part, which
detects and destroys the infecting barb.
Just in time.
Release relief, unbelievable lies,
pile into icy dams, late spring
in truth
past all thorny issues,
life is not intentionally difficult,
ants - the super colony kind
run vast ecology balancing systems,
on auto pilot, pure intuitive duty drives.
On a global scale, spreading without war.

We can see we can be better rich than poor.
We can see we live on a wet ball spun
along a spiral in a spiral in a spiral, and so, on
and on and on, looping the grand loop, a little
farther along than last time,

our eyes have seen the glory, our children
can imagine thought speed, information passing

as time carries matters to gravitationally bound
points past which nothing is ever the same,

because you, cause me, to cause you to imagine
we share a plane conscious level,
as we stare across the heavens from JWST,

just adjusting reasonable focus, is it asking
too much? Asking to effect the healing
with truth that cannot be denied, and be truth
indeed…

Whatsoever, whensover, so today is fine,

infinitely fine, as a whole time bit, with us in it.

Who arranged the world's laws of nations,
?
not men in my general class, retired disabled
boys used in immoral warfare, and paid glory

and allowed to march in war winner parades,
even though, Wounded Knee and My Lai,

fester under America's Exceptional Blessing.

Agricultural superfluity, aided by machines,
and the modern incarnation of king control,
usurious
war debt, cost of plunder,
always need latest enemy detection tech.
- Confidential is above us all down here.

Who you gonna call to collect on reneged
deals, see the big picture, be visionary,
wars are lost for want of a nail, a nail
that woulda been seen missing, if the smith's
bills had been paid in time for precharge inspection.

Who allows evil to prosper,
who prospers from peace never made?

imagine you're the powerful and magnificent
leader of North Korea, or a Metro-mega Church.

You quote Lincoln, and agree with the great
promoters of idle time boredom prevention,
knowing you can fool some of the people,
all of the time. And some of the people
a predictable percentage of the time,

and all the people, after a while.  

Oakridge radiant Gospel,
"you listen too long
  you do eventually die."

- and thus it came to pass
- none found fusion, pfft.
Deep mindtimespace silence

Nonsense to any, therapy to me,
the effectual fervent prayer,

which is really
closer to need announcing, auto
awareness, missing pieces, up
ethos more or
pathos, up path of logos,
as winds winding times
recurrency circuits
up right
is not.
Down is not. Here is midway,
midterm… middle distance
**** sapien augmentedus
in the net spread
in the sight of radio beacons.
submicrowave accuracy,
acutron concept of counting
seconds worth of your attention

Practically stretched
past tensile strand strength

stretching to a C-note,
harmonica

calling all my musing friends,
come hang with me,
in my tree.

In the forest of humanity,
the ant intuitive interconnecting -umph
-- last stack, let patience prove possession --
---- Pa-airing Suckacessfull…
Yeah, blue tooth vestibular augments.
-- I can hear birds now.
Who is on war's side, if this were after
I made my case and closed it,
this is the future when we have
global access to once secret libraries.
5g- ****… radio directly individuated,
as once first accounts were coded, so
now, we are our comm device's user,
we filter using truths we used
and proved just so, we lived

asking truth to show itself in ways
a mortal who labored fifty years,
could be led to expect, jubilee,
boom,
I am free, and I am not uncomfortable,
U may read my mind and find news,
formed from used theories untwisted,

and stretched to the extent of one man's
heart fire, expanded with knowledge,
edified with activated agape, lief be,

take a second, what's such a bit of being
left alone, at second glance, become,

some kinda curious thing, clap trap.

****, all wishery is yours, it's time again,

to review the prayer/wish fullfillment section.

Did you, dear, oh, dear, what, what makes
dear the lessons life teaches for your attention,

no price, a quote, a song
"Come, all you who are thirsty,
come to the waters;
and you without money,
come, buy, and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without cost!"

Isaiah 55, thriving on hope deferred,

refer again to the references,

decide yourself if you believe James I of England
was at any point a person you could work for?

My task is not to teach, unless my life proves
worth my continuing continuance, thinking

plinking, *** shots, clang… in the olden days,

when a family could live by a prentice knack,  
for taking things  apart, to play new roles,

as whole days that may be shared with wary
few, readers readied by experience, to become

as ware, soft, observant, paying eyeservice,
alert for entertaining clap traps when we all laugh.

Okeh, in a dark bijou-kiva, place where aspirations
are presented to the gathered together
to be entertained, de-brained, turned off, and

let be so, the picture show, as it were,
in the so esoterical initial induction, holiness exposed.

It is all in what you did not know, that makes
what you know now, worth living
through.

Yep. Fishing for a whole reality blessing
as living water
does occur to us as time,
we live in the flow, but we row,

because war rules the world we were born in,
and all the churches of messages etched in spirit,
written in light, of course, as on the silvered screen,
live to preach divine rights as old as lobsters's
stacking urges…
tapping scratching

And fire and memories paradiddling
cloudy smoky misty
shapes and shades noise uselessness knowing inspiring
zingers written on the door post, for good luck.

I read a coloring book, once, at a mall, in La Jolla.
"Grandma keeps a Kosher Kitchen" had a scene
to color yourself into, as a curious child noticing,
the little thing Grandma touched as she came in
from the garden of herbs and flowers for bees,

"what is that for?"
In the uncolored coloring book, it was so nonchalant,
"Good luck."
Grandma's grasp the lucid concept.
- food you know not of, love… luck
Thanks given. Praised be.

Long stories, should only be told as true,
if you, personally… lived to tell it, with no sugar on it.

Bitte, Schön. And so it goes. Kosher us, unclean other.

And what am I? Wild child left between the pillar
and the post of an aspiring great man, whose hopes

were dashed, when he crossed a line, in other peoples
ways of sealing soul stealing redemption agreements,

with a shotgun one potential solution…

by the grace of good luck from any source such
luck appears to have kept me breathing, aimlessly

as I imagine a spirit might decide, in truth, one breath
let go , allows a sense to follow, as glowing cardboard ash,
as the teller zones across old causes fought for and won,

which winning needs another singing, which cheek
this time? Which last laugh is led upto, now,

as I acknowledge the precious readers who form
the recognostic think thank thing,
deja deja
This has a sunset with it on Facebook and kenpepiton.com
Lutvi Feb 2018
The voices didn't stop as I expected and i tried to forget about yestrday or the day before but I couldn't.
I will not forget tomorow and I will remember today forever.
I wasn't all alone in the room i was surrounded by a lot of shadows and soft voices.
Every feeling that was touching the empty space was fading in the corners of the room and the uncolored walls seemed like a beautiful painting without a story fulfilled with unspoken thoughts and unknown desires

Me, myself and the forgotten presence of the forgotten dreams.
I feel empty feelings guided by guilt and fading memories.
I'm everywhere and and I'm nobody.

You belong to the world and i belong to the silence.
Bryce Jul 2018
And I have seen paradise before
It was a heaven of ideological
proportions
located
on the junction
of childhood and interstates
of man and youth, with marble floors
and distant speakers echoing drops off of
cell phone booths
and older people
selling things for us to buy
to find ourselves happy in the moment
deep cascading waterfalls

Is this heaven?

When a child it's all you see
the white and pedicured purity
of a waxed granite floor,
the impersonal monotony
feeling a soul in a world unknown
the closest thing to dreaming
Old T.Vs selling like hotcakes
buy it while it's new!

Gameboy games, pokemon on the tele
silent in the face of some strange musician
playing unworded tunes you'll recognize later
their focus-grouped chords left somewhere in your mind
for you to hum when bored

Everything was perfect, then?
was it?

Those same malls don't sparkle
no more

maybe it's just the grime of life
blocking the mirrored measure of my childhood soul
lost amidst the echoes
the sweet music of truth
bouncing off of the uncolored walls
a send-off of my youth

Maybe when we go back, one day
the walls won't be quite so grey
they'll be power-washed with light,
shine better than ever before,
nothing to buy but our happiness
somewhere in those hallowed halls
searching those windows into other lives
hoping to find the key to our soul
to leave this silly Sphere and
Roebuck
our boat back out the sliding door
-windows
back out into the real world,
no longer dreaming.
Elena Mustafa Sep 2020
Red blood drops
The tears of the body
Clear uncolored tears are the tears of
The soul
Blood red leaves
Falling from the trees
Are the tears of the trees
Nature
And of the
Suicide victims
Them leaves have blood
Soaked into them
Mark Lecuona Dec 2016
If I live to prove that I am not who they want me to be, then I am not living as I could be; I do not want to live as a revolutionary in a constant state of defiance unless it is for a greater good, neither do I wish to exploit their weakness for my own gain; I do not want to live as a reactionary but instead as a vision of what I could be; for though they too are a part of this world and it is this world in which my body exists it is my mind instead that lives apart, uncolored by bitterness or the need to prove anything to anyone; I know my worth and I choose to live as a free spirit that only considers the possibilities of itself and to fly like a bird upon the wind instead of blowing with it like the dust from which we came.
Noah Vanderwerf Oct 2019
We got a sinkhole in our kitchen,
all the tiles shaken and wallpaper peeling.
Could be where we've been stuffing our laundry,
or just ran out of caulk to fill the cracks.
Either way, we paid it no mind,
and it grew from the fridge to the door,

from the toilet across the floor.

The pipes jutting out of the dirt and the drywall,
and drop ceiling shredded around.
Through the hole we feel heat rising,
and hear the squawking from the basement.
The crows are dancing around the clutter,
trying not go up in flames,

but without the children escaping.

They've felt the furnace overheating,
refilling gas with every rising flame.
Claws would burn on the steaming valve,
so they just endure the roasting.
Until the furnace finally blows it smoke,
bursting out the house-grown pressure,

the crows only feel frost or the burn.

There's no gray now, just black and white.
Up from the sink hole grows a giant sunflower.
Its rotting face uncolored through the cel shade.
We're all entangled in the vines until it's chopped down.
CharlesC Aug 2019
This is
the mind obstacle
That those on the path
Find tough to encounter..
Some continue on a bypass
Over and around..

Others gently penetrate
The toughness itself
Gazing around
Finding intense coloring
But no diminishing of
Wholeness by that
Threatening something..

Returning to the bypass
These others are routed
Directly to knowing
That which they and
Everything are
Uncolored and Infinite..

These are two paths to
Uncover the Joy that
Seemed to be hiding
Until now...
Hiddenpen Jan 2020
What I am holding now is this limestone.
Giving me it’s healing properties
Possibilities of innocence, purifying.
After a long journey of how it is found,
down to the deepest trench, a suffocating trench
I thrive to reach the very bottom.
To find this precious stone.
The mad waves and currents of this ocean
I was able to defy using my power.
This unknown power that makes me
Swim harder as much as I could be.
But soon as I go up to the surface of this raging ocean,
Slowly I became crippled like a boneless fish.
Hindrances starts to face me.
But with my unknown power once again
I thrive more, harder like a color coloring the uncolored sight.
Im no servant anymore
For this stone will make me different than before.
Just made it today. My friend and I challenge ourselves to write a poem for 30 mins using random words. It was fun. Here are the random words given for this poem: Limestone
Trench
Defy
Crippled
Unknown
Servant
Hindrance
Color
Derick Stark Jan 2022
Blue-bellied lizards scamper beneath trees,
Beneath dandelion and mahogany colored leaves.
Red robins soar above fluff-filled clouds,
Above legions of scarf-wearing, pumpkin carving crowds.
Translucent winds carry the scent of autumn. Carrying the seeds of next spring’s blossoms.
Soon after the tidings of winter shall arrive,
Soon shall the snowmen and pine trees come alive.
White flakes of yuletide joy will leave no spot uncolored,
Hugs and kisses: shared among friends, family, and lovers.
The bells of kindness will ring across this winter wonderland--
Love for all people of all races; mercy to the innocent and ******.
All this would be a nice change for the rains of my mind;
It's been three years, but I have yet to again see the sun shine.
Been digging through poems I wrote in 2016-2018, this should be fun!
Travis Green Aug 2019
I was hurt beyond measure, beaten, bruised,
shut down, sinking beyond mountainous
stones, closed chambers, saw-slashed syllables,
whip-smashed vowels, dry rotten, abandoned,
sashed up, floating on dank shores, ax slapped,
crashing below burned hallways.  My heart was
shifting in unstable positions, squeaky baseboards
and blackboards, screeching sounds folding
and unfolding around my broken soul as I stared
around the empty bedroom seeking serenity
from this lost love lingering inside my cells.
I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t falling
in love with you, your dark passionate eyes
reaching deep into the layers of my labyrinth,
thick lips filled with incandescent rhythms,
widening in my sight, sparking my horizon
as I longed to embrace your landscape.
soft bones of freedom and hope traveling
within your wild nature, seamless treasures
revolving in the air, wavy hair everything
I wanted and more, wonderful arms a stream
of poetry, a dancing mix drumming through
the cracks of my creation, awakening my universe,
your rapping soundtrack of romance headlining
the cityscape, shining like flashing stoplights,
like crystal china.  And as I paced back and forth
around the shadowy space, the green-walls
starting to close in on me, all rusted and ragged,
hardened, splintered commas snapping away
from subjects, damaged verbs and run-on
sentences, my shrunken shoulders trapped
in hollow holes, dying, dim, slim,
shattered stems encompassing my limbs,
sour vowels burning in my mouth,
squashed maggots and bedbugs dissolving
down my throat, spoiled milk clouding
my windpipe, huge cockroaches crawling
all over my flesh as I took in the gratifying
touch.  I was losing my mind, shotgunned,
stunned, uncolored depictions stealing
away my serenity, jagged letters scrawled
in sharp swords across my blackened belly,
stained mirrors facing me in every direction,
my bladed hands lashing at every stained image,
feeling the fire flames from each cracked glass,
sizzling slopes, crazed hallucinations, dazed places,
raw-scorched galaxies, my crippled fingers
bleeding in saddened songs, smoked, undone,
unready, diminishing beneath slippery creeks
as I wondered why love could hurt so **** bad,
why when every time I thought I had found the one,
it was just another mugshot melody shattering
my system.
On my little uncolored lips
I felt a press of your powerful lips
Little did I know it was a kiss
One of your styled romantic kiss….
Until it took away my breath
Drowning me underneath.

— The End —