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Simon Oct 2019
A fulcrum to a virus, is stabilizing the charge of negativity in the bodies natural system. The heart feels it’s blood rippling with contractions. Main internal organs feeling the depth at which disturbance is relative to the norm. The norm being (activity) in the face of hustling environmental situations. Outside your system, or inside isn’t contrary by any means. It’s the same as if it were simple inputs reacting in a form able to move on its own accord. Syncing with the outputting world. Activity starting to measure itself for the greater good. A judgment calls in the face of closing a deal. The deal is finally running into something meant for challenges to address the norm from growing stale too early to experiment. Experiments meant to mold something that’s already in preparation. Waiting for the call to the fulcrum making ends meet with the negativity taking effect. Stronger as the virus who is used to surroundings of this caliber. An arsenal made to manufacturer imprints onto your biological code of conduct. Operating a system’s (will) against its own preparations. A set up of different fulcrums into the breath of negativities process. A virus! Virus includes its force of adjustment in the form of flaying innocent diagrams. Innocent diagrams pinpointing the exact locations which the virus could have a better hold of a body’s systems to executing its process of negativity. Spreading this unusual influence will boost the construct’s own fulcrum. So now it’s virus’s fulcrum versus body’s fulcrum? Can’t predict what hasn’t started processing the experiment. Knowing that much, will scare your interpretations from ever taking true shape. Never appreciating another awareness again. Only as long as it’s needed to accomplish it’s objective. Virus or systems encased in a body formation. There more alike then you think. Giving credit away from what is truly obvious. Virus…bad. No virus…good. The virus might as well shove its fulcrum right down your throat! Forcing you to understand just how premature you sound. Experiments issued by the systems controls, enacting a system wide preparation. Conceding balance controls. Its preparations already tested itself enough in its own environment. Its own tools and mechanisms ready for performance. Components never shy away from a challenge. Unless you’re a conscious base simplifier? Wanting nothing more then to not issue such orders. Getting in the way for a conscious system never understanding its own velocities bouncing one second to the next. It’s sometimes a burden in the light. Focusing on too much, is sometimes a headache waiting to run you dry! Virus prompting the systems desire to accept its fulcrums challenge. Respecting the process of negativity to run it’s course. Tempting the virus to not drown its components too easily. Virus tempted to act. Systems body waiting for virus to take the obvious bait. Which is too good to be true? If only the rules of different fulcrums were to make a biological check under the hood. Everything wouldn’t be so confusing, repetitive, or complicated. The list doesn’t go on and on. It lapses with the same circulation of promises to act on certain flaws that are made out to be one-sided believe and claim. When it’s actually the one-sided always tipping the scale in the end. Concluding the advantages of two opposites never winning the same side as itself. One-sided meant for only one giant slice of balance can be met. Never completely diminishing the result thorough to its points of interest. Interest is already exasperating its body language! Process of negativity is openly resonating from deep inside. Cells becoming soggy. Filled with disbelieve in itself. Trying to interlock messages out toward other neighbouring cells of similar placements. A cell being no more different then someone’s own home. Space reacting to your design. You’re believe system. Instincts holding sturdy promises to the experiment. Which meets every expectation available? A heated discussion between the spaces of cells. Something is radiating those spaces between ties uncut by regular motives. Fulcrums don’t imagine well. It’s a circumstance of visuals, and feeling. Nothing more to hold your own full of reflective potential in remaining stable between your relations. Don’t let yourself become uncomposed in the face of negativities actions. The virus is cunning. Yet ill tempered. Never hesitating to take the whole neighbouring block out with itself. Annihilating itself over the control of its fulcrums (want’s and needs). Diverse a charge to big for complications to arise out from the self replication that is voting the fulcrums negativity to higher platforms. Frequencies ricocheting back and force. Like kids bouncing from phase to phase, in order to find themselves. A dust settled in wrong claims of itself. The experiment was a sham. Virus has been tricked! Tricked by its own flawless nature. The system rejoices the claim of servitude. You were never really supposed to willingly action our will to newer adaptions. It’s tolerable to think two sides of the same coin, could ever amount peace. A peaceful remedy too powerful for the likes of a mere prisoner. The virus gasps in suppression. Never dislocating influence back into the stream of fulcrums not yet devised to join it’s cause. A cause made up. No servitude. Except for one ego rising better than the other. Becoming its own worse enemy. A self reflecting charge full of gimmicks too in denial and childish to RIP succession apart! The virus speaks one last time. I-I…thought we had a deal?! Now how does a deal go unaddressed, when we didn’t notify each other of such claims? The prisoner is escaping! Hold it for ransom?! The fulcrum of systems body, sinisterly grins delight. Let’s test the strength of similar brethren. In the attempt to draw more to our immaculate system of faithful desires!
A deceiver in the light, thinking it’s the deceiver in the dark. Mixed communications through tightened visuals of appealing the issue. Judges something not what it seems to be at first.
i so wish these poems weren't such afterthoughts,
words either labored, squeezed off a pained heart,
or a strong gush of stupid happy emotion as in farts?
neither pretty codified sonnets with essence in parts,
nor crisp, concise haiku's focused like targeted darts,
not the sophistried zen, oft hacked philosophic verses,
and the petty patterned words unmovingly affecting,
i despair for us to read a poem from brains turmoiled,
confused,unwritten words,unexpressed feelings,in divine madness!!
dance the unknown poem if a poem, to music uncomposed if music,
why cant we live them **** poems! so we dont have to **** write them!!


-every fellow being is a poem unwritten I feel, lets live them? Can we?-
Mark Ball Aug 2014
T'is unfair for those
Who have never felt morose or
Uncomposed
To blame or shame the lives
that have been.
For it was their choice,
Leave them be.
I hope you would not be the same
About me.

For a few choose to leave this earth,
But most of us are dead from birth.
For either way it was their choice,
Leave them be.
I hope you would not be the same
About me.

We should salute those who do it,
For they have gone through with it.
Us here waiting, waiting.
Waiting still, waiting to get ill.
For it was their choice,
Leave them be.
I hope you would not be the same
About me.

If I were to make that choice,
Do not proclaim what I could have been,
Or that you never could have seen
The pain.
'Cause you could, and you did.
For it's anyone's choice,
Leave them be.
I wonder would you be the same
If it were me?
Something a little darker.
there she goes
comparing me
to other men
or other boys
i do not want
i only need
to be alone
with me or
you or both
my new
rose

respect the thorn
worshiped the bud
be uncomposed
triplely undertow
dribbling on me
see us bleed
red and in
the water
steam
end
its
me

the wake we are in
of some thing we
dispose but family
is family certainty
sighs, simply
set up alone
living your
lives upon
still living
your lies
still life
portrait
is you
babe

wake up -to me
dreaming
wake up
this is
me
Chris Thomas May 2016
Gravity and all its symptoms
Cause my pretenses and expectations
To dangle like pomegranate

Salt, as I am, changes with the seasons
Light, as I'm not, dims in dark places
I bring famine to these fertile lands

I reach an outstretched hand beyond
The dank foliage shrouding my view
I am uncomposed, but unashamed

The eavesdroppers wait for my whisper
But I am far too loud for simple minds
And the echo dances along the horizon

I cry out, a plea to whoever listens
I beg you, leave me out of focus
Because the blur is where you'll find me
Harmony Sapphire Feb 2015
The hex of unwanted ***.
A curse never to publish a verse.
My songs uncomposed. & unrecorded. Undiscovered written talent unread.
Thousands undelivered & never said.
My manuscript hidden in a box under my bed.
Sometimes think through my head.
Putting words to music to produce.
Express a message of simple use.
Rap, hip hop, pop, country, or rock.
At concerts people huddle like a flock.
The doors & entranced are locked.
This a reason why I have never been to a concert & I never will.
It ain't that chill.
Herded like sheeps & lambs.
No parking only traffic jams.
Noise & screams reach the rooftops.
Elevates levels of hysteria.
Silence is something I now miss.
Calmness & tranquility no longer exists.
© Harmony Sapphire . All rights reserved
Lorraine Colon Feb 2018
What fires burn in this feverish mind!
And from the ashes spring ardent words,
Like the phoenix rising up to heaven,
Leading flocks of diaphanous birds

Mimicking the tides, thoughts ebb and flow
Ceaselessly, as those of the ocean;
Like one possessed, I surrender control,
Jotting down every whim and notion

Angst and rapture mingle together
As I ponder each new assignment;
Vague concepts, dispatched from a remote source,
Invade my mind, seeking refinement

Transient verses perch upon my pen,
Now my minions, I must guide them home;
With care, I place them upon the blank page --
Trumpeting the birth of a new Poem!

Dare I hope my words be remembered
Immortally, as our God must be,
Bringing joy and comfort to burdened hearts,
Like a prayer recited faithfully

My words cannot be held prisoners
In a box meant for decaying remains;
But rather, these poems I lovingly pen
Must soar alongside heavenly strains

I care not if few sad tears are shed
For my folded hands and eyelids closed;
But when Death commands that my voice be still,
Grieve for the poems that went uncomposed!
Rohini Sep 2015
No one to look upto hereafter..
None to hear my plea.
Feel like an unforgivable disaster
Even I don't stand by me!

Dint want to lose it and be doomed..
But was too irresponsible for me
Always wanted to resolve myself..
Hating my own mystery!

Too disconnected in mind,
Too varied a sanity
Hence an uncomposed music of life
No strings attached, U see!

I've locked myself on the outside
& inside I slipped the key
Yet am unbounded by the walls..
TOO MUCH OF ME IS FREE !
Nonn Apr 2018
I'm still in shock.*

I haven't written in a while, love;
Not because I've stopped loving you,
But because I've only just begun.

And I'm still in shock that you
Love me back,
Even if you weren't quite ready to say it
As you told me your thoughts through
The open door of my car,
That one Sunday.

Yes, I love you, too, my love.
And though these messy brushstrokes of thought are uncomposed,
They are intentional,
And they are true.

I just wish I could love you more,
As I watch what I hope is only the sunset
Fade from your eyes.

— The End —