"undreamt" poems
Dear diabolic debutante / Spawn of the unfathomable abyss of blackness / Daughter of dreadful dead desire / Black-shrouded sinister sister of celestial gloom before whose imperious gaze the heavens fall silent / Whip-lash girl-child of the graves whose pallid visage kindles the myriad infernal fires / Autocratic vampiress of lunar doom whose winding-cloth enfolds the thousand horrors of blood-drenched nightmare / Thou that wanderest the cypress-crested hills of funereal necropolises / Whose icy glance cracks the ungraven tombstones of utter desolation / Empress of night and madness / Who stalks the locked and shadowed hallways of unhallowed thought / Whose burial-boat glides the still waters over Lethe’s silent depths to the unglimpsed isle of eternal mourning / Whose parapets tower above the fiefdoms of quotidian banality / Whose flying buttresses overlook the Stygian waters of the forgotten drowned denizens of damnation / Whose unshackled dungeons open to worlds of regal splendor / Whose spires pierce dark skies where oblivion buries the ruined cities of revelry under the drifting clouds of leaden time / Oh maiden of melancholic alchemy whose petrified passions transmute base metal into pure gold…
May the gibbous moon of equinox shine its baleful eye upon you; may you tread in sacramental calm the winding starlit paths of somnolent cemeteries; may my unmixed metaphors unveil in delirium their parabolic mysteries before the smoldering altar of your uninterpretable allegory; may the favor of your scorn forever lay me out, embalmed, undead, on the cold stone of merciless reality. Behold: in cryptic script of spectral apparition, in tracery of coded illumination, amidst the dawning rays of torment I write thine unknown name on the threshold of daylight. And from within the mortared wall of self I speak forth from my sepulcher the Sibylline utterance,
unsought, unheard, undreamt:
JUST WANTED TO SAY ‘HI’ !
☻
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 9:15 PM UTC
The Key To Success
A leaf has many veins connected by the midrib, similar to the Corolla in flowers connected by the sepal,
A stem has many leaves, connected through it, even the roots in this design- fibrous or tap are in their own way special,
Many stalks form a branch, many branches form a tree but all connect at the base, the trunk,
This happens in every tree, but to rebirth has to separate some chunk,
The message being conveyed by nature is unity is the key to success in this world where every person is a different type of petal,
Land Of The Ganga
In this Garth, trees are never watered by a soul, but the river Ganges herself,
The trees even after sinking inwards into the ground, continue to bloom in themselves,
Filled with myriad species of undreamt trees and the rarest of all florets in the daintiest of bowers
The most prodigious banyan tree with about three hundred aerial roots is the main
attracter
A tree that stores water is one of the hundred phenomena in the Botanical Garden in the land of the Ganga itself
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 10:29 AM UTC
you are just girl enough,
to be a real man...
so stand by me,
be a, be my man-girl,
shave that leathery face,
close and tight,
so I can kiss it smooth,
in front of everybody.
Go off to war, Cyrano,
write me love letters of
incredible tenderness,
poems as yet undreamt
come to me raggedy-man whole,
just enough girl in my man,
to make us both,
deliriously,
weep publicly.
Go ahead man,
write your beloved,
songs of the wars that worry you so,
that you don't show,
you think, I don't know,
but I am tough man tough enough,
plenty~enough,
to be yours,
not just the
woman, but that woman,
your beloved.
that bulge in your rear pocket,
not your wallet,
it's just some pocket tissues
you've been saving
for our reunion.
if you are afraid,
be not, be relieved,
you are just
girl enough,
to be a real man,
and I,
*well, I am tough man tough enough,
plenty~enough,
to be yours,
not just the woman,
but that woman,
your beloved*
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
Vietnam, you uncovered my soul
Gave me a song, a direction smog
Looked at the pandora box I held
Unstripped my flames up temples
A hologram of the graded existence
Seasoned in explosions of burnt haste
Decked on buses,ducked in valleys
Chilled bays, overly paddled kayaks
Such sweet taste of the Halong bay
Undreamt mist of the skies stared
Fishing squids and bellied jellyfish
The soil, the sound,an orotund playlist
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 2:53 PM UTC
pretty girl with pretty flowers,
do not be afraid to trace the soft curves of your body
with your round, round eyes.
your monsters hide not there—
your guardian angels do.
when your night feels longer than the day,
breathe the smidgen of youth you have left in you
into the birds swimming fluidly with the stars—
their wings swiftly cutting smooth ripples into the sky,
disturbing the grumbling twilight.
you could be one of them,
able to go nowhere and everywhere.
like air.
don’t you want to go home?
sad girl with sad flowers,
keep your leaves tucked inside your old books,
in lacy sleeves, your peeling boots—
hope He finds them all there.
sing sweetly of the poets of all ages—siken, plath, wilde, whitman—
shamelessly climb inside His chest,
gently rip His ribs apart,
the you that's serenading, softly seducing Him
with songs unsung and dreams undreamt.
let your baby blue skirt ride up,
drip, drip, drip,
let His calloused fingers brush your thighs made of syrupy milk,
as you smile, and smile, and smile.
fiery girl with stormy flowers,
the best things in life cannot be confined to a physical shape, cannot be
seen, or touched, or heard, or said—
yet in your eyes set heavy by damp eyelashes,
there is the primal, unconfined, raw thirst,
desperately hoping and searching.
is it a lost love? an unfounded love?
what is it that you are looking for?
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 11:42 AM UTC
While I, that reed-throated whisperer
Who comes at need, although not now as once
A clear articulation in the air,
But inwardly, surmise companions
Beyond the fling of the dull ass's hoof
- Ben Johnson's phrase - and find when June is come
At Kyle-na-no under that ancient roof
A sterner conscience and a friendlier home,
I can forgive even that wrong of wrongs,
Those undreamt accidents that have made me
- Seeing that Fame has perished that long while,
Being but a part of ancient ceremony -
Notorious, till all my priceless things
Are but a post the passing dogs defile.
1.6k
for Richard, the boy who narrated life
Today, leaves are falling.
“One day Aaron will watch the falling leaves.”
The first day of school arrives.
“One day Champ’s mom will take him to school.”
Life is the story of life, says the narrator.
Life expands. The story lengthens.
The intertwined threads begin to pull apart.
Life is surface and sheen,
laughter, tears, opaque signs.
The story strains after fictive frames,
the hero’s epiphany, the villain’s inner pain,
and undreamt creatures beyond human sense.
And so myth and magic
give form to stories
that we no longer star in.
New worlds take shape
where the story creates its own life,
an escape from "the shock of recognition."
In time the threads converge again.
Life’s pattern breaks and needs a new plot.
The stories yield their human meaning—
maybe we were in them all along.
The story ends and life goes on.
Life ends and the story goes on.
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 6:21 PM UTC
you cannot wish love into existence (or how it came to be)
came and was asked,
make us a star.
smiled and whispered to the
mother night belly black and
and their star,
unequivocal was given
came and was asked, for a cooling fooling breeze.
smiled and whispered to the clouds,
rush past us faster and shed us thy ease
and so refreshed,
gave up hands high grace salutes
came and was asked, why be alone,
whisper for her
to love you
smiled and whispered
this I cannot
nor would I want to do
came and was asked,
why be alone,
whisper for you
to love her
smiled and whispered
this I cannot
nor would I want to do
whisper what you will
but love
is a wondering and a wonderment eternal
a perpetuity of never knowing,
perfect surety is not love
it is a why without an answer,
a question's question imperfection
why you love today,
maybe a continent different
why you used to, or first to,
and tomorrow's raison d'être
as yet undreamt, unrealized,
you can whisper many things into being,
but beings in love are motions special,
and entitled to a category special
admixture of reason and lust,
hunger and thirst,
needy to be needed
needy to be giving,
the balance whacked,
constant change its formulae
called vagaries, chemical imbalances,
e-motions
should I whisper,
call out for love,
making it so,
there would be no why,
without the why,
what worth this be
so when you do whisper
I love you,
admit it is a question
and an answer simultaneous,
it is a whisper of certain uncertainty
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
To my young eyes
To my innocent heart
I remember the world was a blueprint on canvas
It was a dream undreamt
It was a song unsung
As if in a crib, I looked about me at the stars of the cities
Constellations of people hung about
Their wounds and aches, joys and laughter, were the myths
Like the Zodiacs, groups of these people
Could define a person
Yet believing myself undefined, I strode out from shelter
Fearless
Untamed, I ventured to find my purpose
A purpose that would shake the mountain
Rain down the ash of winter
Smother the pits below my dreams
Cull the nightmares that stoke my fears
I waited
I waited, I waited
I tell you the waiting became my purpose
Finally, there, in the clutch of time, I found my calling
I will tell you all of the waiting
I will tell you, don't wait...
Don't wait for the door to ring
or the latch to unlock
Do not wait for the song to play
or the band to sit
Open the door
Be the composer
Be the pilot of your dreams, be the chieftain, be the god
While waiting for what I could be
I saw everyone else become
With the zeal of their hearts
I saw them build, I saw them grow
This one built a nest
That one stitched a doll
Now the doll's a mannequin and my waiting missed the change
I waited for the waiting to end
I waited for the wanting to decide
I waited for foe or friend
I waited until
there was nothing left inside
Where is the zeal of my heart
The timbre of my soul
I lost the sight, the sound, the love
because waiting took its toll...
Jan 21, 2022
Jan 21, 2022 at 8:45 PM UTC
it starts with a chug
a push of steam leaning into the next chug
more resolved even desperate
building momentum with each turn
three thoughtless words
leave the station blowing spiral exhaust
picking up sentences along the way
passengers climb aboard destination cars
riding click clack click clack lyric tracks
as they squelch an urge to peer ahead
for the blind belly-gripping corners
hiding morbid thoughts of finding themselves
somewhere in an ominous tunnel
with a villain from chapter 3
but they come anyway
paying good fare
with cash and unbartered time
reserved for such a season as this
infinite itineraries through
countrysides and comedies
mountains and mysteries
prairies and poetry
highlight endless whistle stop fantasies
predestined by curious minds
throwing line by line hypnotic leisure
into the rhythm of the wheels
beauty is revealed
through the picture windows of books
yet
in the midst of gorgeous landscapes
undreamt dismantling jumps
hardened steel guides in these words:
*...I would have been referred to religion,
the cemetery where questions of faith are answered....*
the pleasant journey
comes derailed on the slip switch
possessed of both genius and sadness
for cemeteries are only death if
they are the end of the vision
tombstones create blind men
of brilliant skeptics
when
Lazarus lives
the tomb is empty
and the end isn't
faith puts the train upright
setting the switches to forever
bypassing graveyards
and riding to the unquenchable light.
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC
While I, that reed-throated whisperer
Who comes at need, although not now as once
A clear articulation in the air,
But inwardly, surmise companions
Beyond the fling of the dull ass's hoof
--Ben Johnson's phrase--and find when June is come
At Kyle-na-no under that ancient roof
A sterner conscience and a friendlier home,
I can forgive even that wrong of wrongs,
Those undreamt accidents that have made me
--Seeing that Fame has perished that long while,
Being but a part of ancient ceremony--
Notorious, till all my priceless things
Are but a post the passing dogs defile.
1.4k
I have spent many years sheltered by love
Shielded from the world’s villainous beings
Beyond blessed to live a life undreamt-of
Your hands guided mine through ev’ry teaching
Unknown that greed and hatred lingered near
and that money took a devilish form.
All I knew was to put the silver spoon here,
to rise with the sun, butlers by the swarm
You told lies- hid me from reality
The sight of such a place scorches my heart
The devil struts the streets safe from chivalry
Children go unnoticed- lost in the dark
What happened to God? Where are the Angels?
All you told me has put me in danger
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 5:15 PM UTC
The darkest night eclipses the brightest stars
Eons in solitude
Addled by a sky steeped in navy
Ships with no direction
The soul drowns
Sinking deeper by the hour, by the minute, by each passing second
As it is engulfed in the tar of a languid existence,
There is a vision in spirit awash in a burst of light
Luna bathes all who see her, who trust her
As the darkest soul, full of dreams undreamt
Is blinded by light's quintessence
Yet, at once able to see the truth that is now exposed
And with eyes wide open, naught but a glimpse was caught
A glimpse of an angel
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 5:29 PM UTC
I live,
In the lucidity of dreams
Undreamt
Eternally naked,
In front of a crowd
Yet, dwelling
In a trench coat style
I'll bare you my soul,
Yet hide my face
I prefer my words, on the wind
Felt,
Never heard
A fading voice
In the chamber of
Never Unlocked
In the realm of things touched
I remain untouched
Unkown
Reality holds no fascination for my eyes
I went blind when the hopscotch grid got washed away by the rain
I live
In the lucidity,
Of dreams
Undreamt
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 8:19 AM UTC
Unhinged circus,
Requires perfect masquerade,
Before gymnasts leap,
Into Cinderella's world,
Spiralling into fame.
Before presenters go on stage,
And broadway groups dance,
Into undreamt wonders,
As actors rise and fall,
Her maple core remains.
As years elapse,
Girls become Women,
Perfect maple figure unscathed,
Always anticipating moments,
Of celebration, love and sorrow.
But most of all,
I still can't fathom,
How the dressing table speaks,
Invaluable untold stories.
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 5:51 PM UTC
i speak to the night and she always speaks back
lending me whispers and words to rend my weaving thoughts
in that moment between dreaming and sleep;
the one that lasts a life age
near the precipice, the one that undesirably breaks you free
ever so slightly
and then suddenly (maybe)
rips you away from the world that melds the real
and unreal
the true and the false
the dream and those harsh undreamt realities
that exist in all times, but never seem real when you’re free of their clutches.
we are one, we are all connected
our synapses are linked, our electrons shared,
our every thought a memory,
shooting through space like lightning
and written in the stars on our darkest of days
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 9:43 AM UTC
At night
I lie under the darkest cloud
I lie in a storm
I lie in brightness
I lie alone.
At night
I miss
I miss the loud
I miss the quiet
I miss chaos
But,
I don't miss.
arms entwined
around each other
I see them
but I don't see me.
silent whispers
and unspoken looks
I see them
but I don't see me
noise and chaos
is what I have
and what I want
similar in their definitions
however,
in a parallel universe.
But then
I see him and him and him and him
I see them all
and I see me
I see darkness
and I see hunger
and I see no spark
I see both
seeping the drastic differences
absorbing the realities
dreaming the dreams.
I see me, and I see them
both thems are different
but I'm not.
When I want to be them
I see the other them
and I see me
and then I realize
that the them could be either.
but the me,
is me.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 7:04 AM UTC
planted in foundation firm, upright she grows
hardened by bullying winds, fragile she froze
spring sunlight begins to thaw her icy trunk
undreamt beauty within, temporary funk
nurtured and nursed back to life, the impact shows
meant for more than shadows, pretty she pose
structure, strength, and semblance; groundwater bestows
brilliant and confident contrasts wilted, shrunk
I, unraveling; opening; flourishing.
stretching toward light; jaws dropped, she fearless arose
petals so pretty, her true colors expose
stem entwined with stories; her purpose no bunk
floods, fingers, fierce feeling; she stood never sunk
wavering character, but bold hope she chose
I, unraveling; opening; flourishing.
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 8:21 AM UTC
I could fly if I
tried ○ To where fey delight
lies ○ And in the moonlight
rest before ascending higher yet
♥
Fair or foul, none would elsewhere
stare ○ Because see, I am up there
bare ○ Dizzying dives of despair
shared ○ While breathtaking climbs, with flair,
part cloudy veils
♥
Oh, how my wings would, like the sun's echo,
glow ○ Sparkling eyes would the course of tomorrow
know ○ And with nary a care, choose to forego
woe ○ I'd swoop and swirl and soar, to through shadow,
flow ○ And still dancing unmoored, dare to follow
dreams yet undreamt.
♥
I could fly if only I tried
All the way to where happiness lies
But why bother
When all that rises must falter
Aug 9, 2010
Aug 9, 2010 at 6:30 PM UTC
The rain has passed yet we are all still huddled beneath our dark umbrellas
Shielding ourselves for fear that when we look back
Things will not be as we left them
And if this is life let me face death as if it were a silver bullet,
So that I might watch it reflect the young rays of light
Onto my face,
And send me blind into the hands of tomorrow
Have you forgotten that your god speaks to you through your own sullied lips,
From his throne nestled deep in the folds of circumstance,
Built of love and undreamt dreams,
Or perhaps of flesh and blood
If one is not the other,
And that he is often called a soul?
Your children stand alone atop frozen cliffs,
They do not feel the ground crumbling beneath their feet,
And where there should be iron cages protecting their fragile hearts
There is but bone,
So easily broken
Crushed by shoulders holding up the world by its bootstraps,
Or what is left of them,
Little more than what is left after flame has reduced to ash
All but the smallest of creatures to start anew
And we beg them to start anew
We beg them to wash away the bodies,
The open mouths that once spoke,
And were considered wise.
I am tired of running around in the confines of my existance
Your words are spoken,
Speak them not again,
And give all that you have left to those who still believe in magic
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 6:56 PM UTC
True lies like undreamt dreams, are unbelievable if believed, undiscovered discovery, and UnLoved Love are Understanding if You don't Understand..
Unknowing Knows All Beginnings must End, then Ending Begins by Unemptying Emptiness, Nothing is Full and All is Unfulfilled
By means of Contradiction, I laid out the proof, words are just words still nothing has been said.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
I told myself a new entry would break
the wall between where I am and can be,
yet reason's gone and what is left to take
is none other than the beat that drives me.
Two years since our last flame quickly burned out
and here we are: with the same laughs and gaze,
that captured our wants but drove our own doubt,
which strengthened the air to blow out the blaze.
I know I can be the one to restore
your faith in trust, truth and undying love.
By distancing yourself from times before
we can share something to us undreamt of.
No other words spoken can be more true
than what I have shared each and every day
I spent in bliss and utter joy with you,
which in turn made you too feel the same way.
Don't say you can look past all your smiles
without knowing I've moved and touched your heart.
My honesty in all shapes and styles
should be enough for amity to start.
Jun 10, 2011
Jun 10, 2011 at 10:28 AM UTC
in silence we ponder
the vast unknown
in darkness we wander
far from home
unanswered
our questions
seethe within
unbroken the cauldron
of our heart's lament
unloved we fly
from one to another
undone are the rules
by which
we were governed
unfeeling we break
the ones who would care
uncaring we shatter
the image they held
unwritten our story
unspoken our words
unbidden our longing
unleashed with our tears
unbroken the cauldron
of our hearts lament
undead yet un-living
unending torment
what if
we wonder unheard
there once was a dream
undreamt
undisturbed
unvoiced the call
unanswered
unheard
unspoken a dream
that once was a word
unwritten our story
unspoken our words
unbidden our longing
unleashed with our tears
unbroken the cauldron
of our heart's lament
undead yet un-living
unending torment
.
http://oi57.tinypic.com/9qwewk.jpg
.
.
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 10:56 PM UTC
It was your words
I missed the most,
mesmerizing and delight
in early September morning,
spilling from fragrant,
pink petals like dew
in late summer,
every conversation
an undreamt dream
warm and wonderful.
©desireddreamer
Mar 11, 2020
Mar 11, 2020 at 10:35 PM UTC
If I stay
s i l e n t,
will you talk to me again?
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 11:40 PM UTC